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#touya fluff
trueshellz · 1 year
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Set in the same theme as this
A little side note: Touya, from my research, means 'arrow of light' so I wanted his son's name to have a similar theme so Tadaaki means 'bright light'.
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Daddy!Dabi, sorry Touya, who keeps having random toys delivered to your house. You're sure the driver knows your name by now since you're getting a parcel every day and to make it worse the little demon child seems more interest in the box and wrapping paper than the actual gift inside the damn thing.
"Tadaaki, I swear to God."
You sat on the floor next to him as he tried to ingest yet another piece of paper from the floor, wrestling the small sodden pieces from his hand and replaced it with his dummy even as he screwed up his face in frustration.
"Just let him eat it."
Shaking your head in exasperation, you turned to the window and glared at Touya. The grin on his face as he crouched on the window ledge made you even more frustrated so you threw some paper at his stupid head.
"Very helpful, thank you."
A snort as he jumped down, the thud as his boots hit the floor before he quickly removed them and replaced them with the slippers you chose for him. They were huge Smurf feet, something you would tease him with when you were together, and when you saw them in the local shop you just had to get them.
A loud squeal as Tadaaki stood up and toddled over to his dad, Touya was still a little hesitant as the little hands held on his larger ones. You could see the gloves he was wearing, something you noticed after you met in the park and assumed it was to protect Tadaaki from the staples. A louder squeal this time as Touya hefted him up in the air, the dummy landing on the floor as your son flew up in the air.
"You know, he just ate. If he-"
"Oh shit!"
"-pukes it'll be your own fault."
You couldn't help but laugh out loud this time, your son looking awfully chuffed with himself as his dad looked like he was about to throw up himself. Holding Tadaaki at arms length, his face turned away as he thrust him out to you and pulled the jacket and t-shirt he was wearing off and wiping himself down with some baby wipes while mock glaring at you.
"You can stop laughing, brat. I learnt my lesson."
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missmeinyourbones · 11 months
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TWIN SIZED MATTRESS
a part two of where love lives because i am such a sucker for rei getting those kids the hell out of that house and the todoroki fam being normies 
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You would almost be drifting off to sleep—if it wasn't for the dead weight of Shouto’s  limbs on your lap and the irritating buzzing of Touya’s whines in your ear. 
“He’s out cold.”
Touya gestures to the blob of red and white hair sprawled out by your side. After one episode of his cartoon and a few head scratches from your hand, Shouto was out like a light. 
It’s been about thirty minutes since then, and the low mumble of the cartoon still humming across the dim living room speaker is driving Touya up a wall. 
“If you’re not gonna let us go upstairs, at least let me change the fuckin’ channel,” he mumbles behind a scowl. 
You roll your eyes but gently toss him the remote regardless. He hums at his victory, catching it easily and flying through countless channels, eventually landing on some poorly produced scary movie from the early 2000s—and if it wasn't for his youngest brother wedged in between the two of you like a cushion, he’d be using the film as an excuse to cling onto you.
It's not long before the sound of a key in the lock softly rattles the front door, and a few seconds later, Rei enters quietly, almost like she's not trying to make a single sound. But when she sees two (and a half) silhouettes on the couch, she tosses her keys on the counter with a bit less caution.
“What a pleasant surprise this is,” her voice is teasing, but it’s all in good fun. She’s a soft woman, in her speech and touch—and the way Touya’s eyes glass over when they’re on her.
He barely lets his gaze stray from the film to flicker her way when he mumbles half-hearted a “hey, Ma.” You decide to be the adult in the situation and properly greet the woman of the house.
Slowly and carefully removing Shouto’s limp limbs from your lap, you manage to slide out from beneath his weight and stand up.
“Shouto didn’t feel well, so we gave him some medicine and let him lay with us for a bit,” you gesture to the sofa where he still snores while your boyfriend watches the movie and scoots away from the drool now pooling on the cushion beside him. 
“How sweet you two are,” she breathes, simultaneously thanking you while cheap-shotting Touya, knowing this had to be all your doing. 
Because it doesn’t take a genius to know that while he means well enough, there’s no way in hell it was Touya’s idea to cuddle up with his brother on a Friday night. 
“Are you staying the night?” she innocently asks, her gaze flickering to the stove clock and seeing it’s well past midnight. 
You make a mental note to kill Touya later for not telling his mother of your attendence. Politely, you decide to tread lightly, “If it's alright with you, please.” 
At the same time, Touya mumbles something from his spot on the couch about it being too dark out now for you to be driving anyways. 
“Of course,” she shrugs her jacket off, laying it on the back of a chair while getting herself a glass of water, “take Touya’s room, he’s fine on the couch.”
At that, your disinterested boyfriend is suddenly extremely intruiged with this conversation.
“No,” he nearly chokes on his own disbelief, “I’m not okay on the couch.”
“Don’t listen to him, take the bed,” Rei continues, completely ignoring her eldest son practically throwing a fit as he finally stands and scurries over to the two of you.
“We’re adults,” he heaves, though his whiny tone betrays his claim, “I think it’s safe to say we can sleep in the same bed, Ma.”
Rei deadpans as blunt as ever, looking her eldest dead in the eye without a shred of shame or subtly when she sighs.
“I’m too young to be a grandmother, Touya.”
You feel your skin grow hot, and you don’t miss the way Touya’s neck flushes also red as he curses under his breath. 
“The hell is wrong with you?” he rubs his eyes in irritation. “As if we’d ever try anything with all of you fuckin’ people here.”
You bite your tongue at the lie that webs through his teeth. As if that wasn't what you were doing in the first place when Shouto decided it was a convenient time to have a stomach ache.
With a silent wave of her hand, Rei seems to send Touya up to his room to both get it ready for you and grab whatever he needs for the couch. He does so wordlessly, but can’t help the dramatic sigh and heavy footsteps up the stairs along the way.
When Rei sees your nose crinkle at his theatrical antics, she shakes her head and reassures you.
“He’ll be fine.” 
She offers you a glass of water, and the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few moments.
It’s nice. For a house that's always breathing with hectic excitement, it’s refreshing to take in its small noises. The sound of the floorboards creaking beneath Touya’s footsteps above, the ice maker grinding and chiseling every few moments, the ceiling fan whirling against the metal of its own chain.
After a moment, Rei speaks up—and when you catch her eye, she’s admiring you with a different kind of softness you’ve yet to see on her. 
“We love having you here,” she delicately insists, before quietly adding, “all of us.”
Her comment warms you from the inside out. Like a fire in your chest, the genuity of her words spreads all throughout your veins and into each crevice of your body. It feels like home has eaten you alive. 
“I love being here,” you manage to whisper after a moment, “thanks for always having me.”
She returns easily, “Thank you for taking care of my baby.”
Your head turns to where the tiniest Todoroki quietly snores on the couch, “It’s no big deal, Shouto’s always great.”
“I wasn’t talking about Shouto,” Rei doesn't miss a beat, gently resting a loving hand on your shoulder.
Touya calls your name from upstairs, seemingly to let you know that his room is ready for you. You shoot Rei a smile that you hope does even a sliver of the happiness you're feeling justice before crawling upstairs.
Annoyance clear on his face, he points to his messily prepared bed with a mock kindness, “Your grace.”
You roll your eyes at his dramatics but accept the bed nonetheless. One you’ve been in more times than you can count, but never without him, Touya’s bed is comfortable in all of the right places. The comforter isn’t too heavy for the summer heat, and his sheets smell like the perfect balance of his cologne and lingering cigarette smoke. 
You half expect Touya to give you a proper goodnight, but you should’ve known better, because instead of coming over to kiss you, he sulks to the doorway before whispering, “The second she’s asleep, I’m coming up.”
You do your best to sound strict behind your inching smile. “No, you’re not.”
Touya merely shrugs before gently closing the door, his pillow in his hand and a flickering look in his eye.
He keeps his word because precisely eight minutes after you hear Rei gently creep upstairs and close her bedroom door, another one opens and Touya’s lanky frame scurries in.
“Get out,” you half-heartedly threaten through a sleepy rasp.
His movements don't hesitate in the slightest. He continues to close the door slowly, securing it and creeping to his bed on his lightest steps. 
“This is my room,” he humbly reminds you.
“You’re gonna get us in trouble,” you attempt to reason with the unreasonable.
“Please,” he scoffs, shimmying himself beneath the covers and onto his flattened pillow, “she knew this was gonna happen the moment she sentenced me to that fuckin’ couch.”
Touya moves to spoon you, placing his hand on your stomach before you tense up and turn around to face him directly.
“We are not having sex,” you harshly remind him in a whisper.
You can practically see his stupid smirk when he replies, “Didn’t realize I was dating a nympho.”
He hears you kiss your teeth in annoyance, but when you move away from his hands, he shushes your complaints and halts your movements with a tightening grip.
“Hey, stop,” he whines, letting you turn around but forcing his way to nuzzle into the back of your neck.
“Just wanna lay with you,” he whispers into your back before gently nipping the skin and adding a sweet, “you gremlin.”
You gently scoff at that and settle beneath his touch, and the world almost feels like it stops spinning as the two of you cram into a twin size mattress Touya’s had since he was about eleven years old.  
“Thanks,” his voice quietly cuts through the silence of his bedroom, barely louder than the cicadas that chirp outside as he continues, “for helping the little asshole tonight. Pretty sure he was faking it, though.”
He feels you laugh through a huff of your nose, “Doesn’t matter, I was happy to be here.”
 Touya softly gnashes his ankles against yours when interlocking your legs together. You feel a tiny kiss on your exposed shoulder when he groggily speaks above the sound of the air conditioner.
“Think we were all happy for that.”
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touyasdoll · 1 year
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Like You
pairing: dad!Dabi/Touya Todoroki x fem!reader
word count: 0.6k
warnings: you have a son together, reader referred to as mommy, Touya has feelings
notes: just a sappy little idea I had. I live for this man as a father <3 best dad, hands down. and as always, he deserves the world.
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You and Touya are enjoying a peaceful afternoon on the couch, cuddled up together while watching some tv in silence for once. Your little boy is being so good right now, just quietly coloring by himself in the other room.
But then it gets a little bit too quiet, so you get up to investigate, just to make sure that he isn’t getting into anything he shouldn’t be. Lo and behold, your suspicions were correct. You find him absolutely covered in purple marker.
It’s everywhere. His arms, his neck, his face. All on his cheeks and just beneath his oceanic eyes. He’d even taken his shirt off to color in part of his chest.
“What—,” you blink, laughing and shaking your head as you walk closer to him. “Honey, what are you doing?”
You reach out to take the marker from him, but he grips it tighter and takes a step back.
“No, I’m not done yet!” He pouts, looking down at his belly to put the purple ink to his skin again.
“Not done with what? I think you’ve done enough, sweetheart. C’mere, lemme see that, please,” you say as you hold out your hand.
Touya’s sitting on the couch waiting for you to return, though his parental senses are tingling. He’s about to get up and come to check on the both of you when he hears your laughter.
“Hey, what’s so funny in there?” He calls playfully as he gets up anyway to wander down the hall, curious as to what’s going on.
He leans against the entrance to the playroom and his eyes pop open wide when he sees the mess that’s made it’s way all over your son and his tiny little activity table.
“Tell Daddy what you’re doing, baby,” you instruct the small boy with a fond smile on your lips.
“I wanted to look cool like you!” He proclaims, the most pure smile propping up his chubby cheeks.
Touya’s heart clenches in his chest so tight that he actually clutches it, wearing the same expression you’d had on just moments ago, positively endeared by your son’s ingenious idea.
He’s always thought that he looks disgusting, even with the countless amount of times you’ve insisted otherwise. It isn’t until this moment that he starts to believe that maybe you’re not entirely wrong after all, but he’s mostly just relieved that his own child doesn’t find him repulsive and touched that he actually wants to emulate him. It’s the only time in his life he’s actually felt more like a hero than a villain.
“I’m missing the shiny parts though,” your son announces, wearing a pout that’s identical to his fathers, though Touya would deny that he’s ever pouted in his life.
“Well, I think we have some staples,” Touya says casually as he looks over his shoulder.
“Absolutely not.” You shake your head, laughing. “This is good enough. You did such a good job, baby.”
“Aw, c’mon, we can use that shit that you use to put your eyelashes on or whatever. That’s safe, right?” Touya jokes as he strolls further into the room.
You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the amused smile on your lips.
“Language. And no staples. Maybe we can find some tinsel or something though,” you concede. “And some body safe paint.”
“See, that’s why it’s a good thing we have Mommy,” Touya says as he moves to sit on the floor, ruffling the tot’s white hair. “You did do a great job, buddy. C’mere.”
He extends his long arms and pulls the tike into a hug, just in time to spare him from seeing the single crimson tear slipping from his seam, though you catch it. You reach out to gently swipe it away with your thumb before you join in on their embrace, pressing a kiss to your husband’s face and then your son’s.
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shadowspromise · 1 year
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It took a while for Touya to let you call him Touya.
When you first met, it was strictly “Dabi.” No nicknames, either. He was too cool for nicknames. Then he started to loosen up a bit as time passed, enjoying when you called him a dummy, an asshole, a shithead. And then you started dating.
Of course he loved when you called him your darling, your love, your dear. But something felt missing to him. And finally, in a random late night conversation, it clicked. 
He forgets what the conversation was even about. It was late and the two of you were tired. But he remembers something you said to him, presumably after he complained about being his father’s child.
“Dabi, you’re not just your father’s child, you’re you. Separate yourself from him. Take it back. Reclaim yourself.”
He knew what was missing. He wanted you to call him Touya. To reclaim his name. He thought of it as a big “fuck you” to his father. He wasn’t “my son, Touya.” He was “my boyfriend, Touya.” He liked how that sounded. He reclaimed it.
So he asked you to call him Touya. Just you. Because there was something about you that made everything about him better. The way you described his charred skin is like no other. What he sees as disgusting, you call “little lavender body paintings.” He reclaimed these horrid scars, now seeing them as his lover’s favorite part to kiss on his body.
His eyes. He always hated them. They were like carbon copies of his father’s. Until you showered him in compliments, saying you loved how they matched his flames. How they looked like a bright ocean. How they lit up a dark room. He reclaimed his father’s eyes, now seeing them as the way he’s able to see his beautiful partner every day.
His natural white hair. He was able to hide it relatively well, but when you get close to him, you can see the white eyelashes that cover his eyes when he sleeps. The trail of white hair under his belly button. The white roots that grow in when he hasn’t dyed his hair in a while. You like to mention how the soft white compliments the shimmer of his staples and piercings. He forgets all about his family when your nails are scratching at his scalp, nearly purring as you massage his head. 
He’s thought of marrying you hundreds of times. Maybe even starting a family. Reclaiming his last name and adorning it next to your first name. At first he thought of it as yet another “fuck you” to his father, restarting the Todoroki family as perhaps a healthy one between you, him, and maybe some little rascals running around. But he looks at you and is reminded that he isn’t here to annoy his father. He has a purpose. He can live and love like everyone else. 
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gardenofnoah · 1 year
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i’m coming up on a year of having this blog and i thought i’d do something with this drabble that i can’t stop thinking about so. yeah! thanks for reading my little stories and saying such nice things to me for a whole year <3 love u 
summary: in his 40s, touya isn’t expecting anything outside of his normal, comfortable routine. you come along and give him far more than he ever wanted. oddly enough, he doesn’t think he minds. 
tags: MDNI, i’ll call this a medium burn, mentions of drinking, reader uses she/her pronouns and is called a lady,etc, age gap (unspecified but like 10 years--both are consenting adults), very little angst (like, the least i’ve ever written. this is just cute, if you can believe that.), smut (dry humping, oral), this is very much a comfort fic to me idk. wc: 10.1k
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much to his utter disdain, Touya sees you everywhere after your first encounter. and often. 
you have this awful habit of just popping up. in the stool next to him at the bar, with such regularity that his friends now joke about it being your stool, and then around town—everywhere he goes. it’s a small town, sure—but he still finds it ridiculous. even more ridiculous—the fact that you might be growing on him, despite all his resistance. 
he doesn’t know when he started expecting you to hop up on that stool every friday. has no idea when he memorized your drink order, or when he started ordering it for you preemptively. this goes on every friday for weeks—until you don’t show up.
and he’s irritated then, because it makes him sore—where else could you possibly be? 
“where’s your girl?”
“don’t know,” he mutters. he catches the smirk on his friend’s face out of the corner of his eye. “and she’s not my fuckin’ girl.”
that makes him laugh, and Touya turns away in a huff, face burning. 
“sure she’s not.”
it’s another two weeks before he sees you. not that he was counting. 
when he sees you again, it’s a tuesday, and he’s just wrapped up at his neighbor’s house. he carries two loaves of bread in one arm, and his toolbox in the other. the old woman had chased him out of there early, telling him, “it’s a nice night. go out there and find you someone!”.  he snorts, kicking a bit of asphalt down the pavement. that old bat acts worse than his mother. 
there are a few vendors lined up along the road, so he lets himself take his time—strolling casually, eyes raking over the stalls. it is a nice evening—warm, but the breeze is cool as it rustles through his hair. he sees a white tip from the corner of his eye and it almost startles him. it doesn’t matter how much distance he puts between himself and Dabi—it still surprises him when he realizes that he is not the same. physically or otherwise. 
lost in his thoughts, he finds himself nearly home when he sees you in his peripheral, taking something from the merchant of the produce stall across the street. he has half a mind to turn and walk the opposite way (away from his house) just to avoid this interaction—still wholly irritated over wasting the $7 on your stupid little drink, and that’s all—but you seem to have a weird sixth sense when it comes to him, and your head snaps up in his direction right before he can make a break for it. you give him that stupid smile that he has to look away from, waving at him happily before you take off in his direction. 
he considers if he still has time to flee, but then you’re there in front of him. 
“Touya!” you beam up at him, totally ignoring the scowl he levels you with, “what are you doing here?”
“i live here,” he grumbles, looking away from you again, “what are you doing here?”
“ah, i visit my family on tuesdays. whatcha got there?” 
he pointedly looks down at the bread in his arms, and back up at you. you’re looking at it a little too intensely, eyebrows scrunched together like you’re trying to figure something out—and then the moment’s gone, and you’re smiling up at him again. 
“want to share?” you ask, holding up your bag of produce to him. 
he doesn’t, but he finds himself next to you anyway, sitting on a retaining wall while you chatter away—kicking your feet out and handing him slices of an orange between your own bites. 
he learns more about you. early 30s (so not as young as he’d guessed, but still young enough to make him cringe), living alone like he is. you grew up in town, moved away for a while, and then came back. you don’t really like sweets but you do like fruit—hence the overflowing tote bag full of it—and you’re more inclined to reach for tea than coffee. you own the little flower shop a few blocks down. he thinks it suits you—and then he shakes his head, trying to dislodge the thought. 
“i’m having an issue with the floor though, so part of the shop has been blocked off for a few weeks. not great for the foot traffic, but what can you do,” you shrug absentmindedly, more focused on digging another piece of fruit out of your bag. you settle on a peach, and it’s quiet between you for a beat. as if waiting for the silence, the thought that he’d been holding back for the better part of an hour finds its way out of his mouth. 
“haven’t seen you at the bar,” he mutters, picking a stringy bit of peel off the orange piece he’s been holding. 
“huh? oh, yeah. i had a wedding order that i was working on. it was so….much,” you shudder like you went off to war instead. “why, did you miss me?”
he looks away, eyes narrowed in a scowl. “just was a waste of a drink, s’all.”
he regrets it as soon as it leaves his mouth. 
“a drink? my—oh. wait.”
your eyes go wide—he should’ve known you’d catch on to the meaning behind his words and he wants to die—
“forget it—“
“Touya,” you cut him off, and he can hear your shit eating grin, “were you hoping to see me?”
he’s sure he’s gone bright red and resists the urge to recede into himself like a snail into a shell. now he’s irritated, because did you think your drink just magically appeared in front of you every friday? he can feel the smugness radiating off of you—you want him to say it. he huffs, still looking away from you. 
“just…was a waste of money,” he grits out, knowing fully that he hasn’t worried about money in quite some time, “figured you’d be there.” 
you hum, and he still can’t look at you. refuses to, actually. 
“sorry, Touya,” you tell him, and it sounds so genuine that he finds himself turning to you, just to check—to make sure you’re not fucking with him. “i’ll be sure to let you know the next time i won't be there.” 
he rolls his eyes at the way you’re smiling softly at him, always like you know something he doesn’t. he mumbles out a clipped “whatever” and he hates the way he sounds like he did when he was 23. you don’t pay it any mind though, right back to talking his ear off. 
“so do you live, like, really alone? or do you have a pet? you strike me as a gerbil guy.” 
he huffs out a laugh at that, caught wholly off guard at the thought of being the gerbil guy (have you seen him?) and you smile at the sound, clearly pleased with yourself. 
“no gerbil. a dog,” he finally takes a bite of the orange he’s been cradling in his palm for the better half of the last 20 minutes. your eyes don’t leave him. 
“mm. chihuahua,” you say solemnly, and he whips his head around to look at you, expression all twisted and incredulous. 
“a big fuckin’ dog, you brat.” 
you laugh at his outburst, seeming to get some sort of pleasure out of riling him up. 
“can i meet him?” 
he looks at you then, and you’re really laying it on thick—wide eyes blinking up at him, bottom lip jutted out in a little pout. he can’t find it in himself to say no to you. with a sigh, he pushes himself up from the wall. 
“c’mon then.” 
it’s a short walk to his place and you’re vibrating behind him. shoving his key into the lock, he hears the familiar thumping of a tail, at about the same frequency as your incessant excitement at his back—he wonders just what he’s done to attract this level of energy. 
“wait a minute—he’s going to jump at you—“
“oh, who cares. let me see him!” 
he shakes his head, swinging open the door. he sees his big oaf of a dog rear up to jump, and then—
and then his jaw drops, because for what may very well be the first time, his dog is suddenly sitting. 
you squeal and the dog isn’t much better off—practically wiggling away from his spot on the floor and whining at the sight of you, but still sitting. 
“Touya!” you laugh, shoving past him to throw your arms around the dog’s neck, squeezing him tightly, “i know this dog!”
“you—huh?” 
“i—“ your own laugh cuts you off, giggling while the dog fights your grip to lick you directly on the face, “i know him! did you get him at the shelter in town?”
“…yeah?”
“oh man! i used to volunteer—i was there when he was dropped off. i was with him all the time—taught him some manners—but then i took that job out of town for a little bit, so i didn’t get to see him after that.” 
Touya, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that his dog is sitting, can’t bring himself to formulate a coherent reply. 
“oh, i was so worried about him,” you say quietly, hugging the dog tighter, “i’m really glad you have him. what did you name him?”
that snaps him out of it, and he looks away, sheepish. 
“i—uh. didn’t.” 
you blink at him, processing, and then you frown. 
“are you kidding me?”
he shrugs, looking at the dog— who, also for the first time, seems to be glaring at him with the same sentiment. 
you sigh, shaking your head. “that won’t do,” you mutter, more to the dog than to him. “i think i called him Buck.” 
as if on cue, Buck’s tail thumps against the floor. 
“why?” 
“not sure,” you say, scratching behind a fuzzy ear, “he just reminded me a little bit of a deer.” 
Touya scoffs, completely in the dark as to how the two were even remotely similar. 
“alright. Buck it is, then.” 
you smile, patting the dog on the head as if he’d done anything worth rewarding. with a sigh you get to your feet, stretching a bit. 
“i really do have to go see my family now,” you tell him, and he swears he hears a tiny bit of regret in your voice, “but thanks for letting me see Buck.” 
he only nods, watching you bend down to kiss Buck square on his stupid blockhead. 
“see you Friday?”
he swallows thickly, nodding again. your eyes are too bright. 
“okay. see you, Touya.” 
“hey,” he stops himself from reaching for you as you go to open the door, “i can…look at that floor for you. if y’want.” 
every time he thinks he’s used to the way you just throw your emotions around like live grenades, he’s not—you smile at him so brightly he thinks you might just kill him. 
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you have a hunch that Touya is secretly a really good guy. 
it’s almost endearing—how hard he tries to be so prickly—but it’s always all for naught, because he can’t help but go out of his way to do things for you. 
you don’t know what to call the relationship—you gathered enough information from hushed whispers to his friends anytime he left his stool at the bar to know that he pointedly did not seek out the affections of women (“or men,” one of his friends said with a shrug, like they weren’t really sure). you weren’t clear on where that left you, so you were content to keep learning what you could about him—to stick around, as long as he tolerated you. 
and he just barely does that, but you have a hunch it’s a farce. especially when take out cups full of freshly steeped tea start appearing on your counter in the shop, more days than not.
you lean against the wood top, sipping today's tea with both hands to warm yourself while you watch Touya work. autumn was in full swing now, and you had some difficulty keeping the shop to your preferred level of warmth, but it didn’t seem to bother him. your eyes linger on the hem of his old t-shirt, rising up in the back just a little when he reached for a different tool. it was obvious that time had softened him a bit, but he was still in shape. your vision followed the faded, looping scar that moved with the curl of his bicep as he worked each tool. it was hard not to stare. 
it was even harder to get away with it. 
“you’ll burn a hole in my head, brat.” 
“just checking your work,” you tell him through a grin. trying very hard to feign nonchalance.
“oh yeah?” Touya looks at you over his shoulder, smirking at you. you feel it bodily. “what’s the verdict?” 
“looks….” you pause, examining the array of tools and the sizable hole he’s created in the floor, “yeah. yep. like good work.”
he scoffs, shaking his head and turning back to the task at hand. you resist the urge to slam your head off the counter—settling for tapping in lightly as reprimand for your less than intelligent response. 
you decide that the best way to get the embarrassment to dissipate is to do the thing that is quickly becoming your favorite activity: bothering him. 
“pick a color.” 
“what?”
“i said pick a color, grandpa.”
the sigh he lets out makes you laugh. “you fuckin’—fine. red. what’re you doing?” 
you smile at him, and you watch him flush. it makes you giddy. 
“nothing,” you drawl, sing-songy and incriminating, “don’t you worry your little heart about it.” 
“you are the worry to my little heart,” he deadpans, not bothering to look up from the measurement he’s taking. 
another thing you learn about Touya—he’s got a bit of a (dry) sense of humor. he seems to enjoy making you laugh.
there’s a lull in customers and you use it to your advantage—you go around to every bucket to ensure that each cut stem is submerged, and take out the wilted ones to dry. you don’t sell those ones—you just hang them up around the shop. you think it’s better not to waste them. 
you also pull out some good looking red ones, as inconspicuous as you can—you gather a tulip, a few poppies, a peony, and a big, variegated chrysanthemum for the center. 
you hold the makeshift bouquet behind your back as you approach Touya—padding over to him quietly until you’re close enough to lean into his space. 
“whatcha thinking about?” 
he spares you a pointed glance over his shoulder. “pest control.” 
“har har,” you plop down right next to him, grinning at the way he bristles. of course it’s all for show—he doesn’t move an inch. 
“made you something.” 
“hm?”
you bring the bouquet out from behind your back, brandishing it in front of him dramatically. “tada!”
his eyes go wide—you see it take a minute for him to process that you’re giving him a gift. he sets his tools down and reaches for it, tentatively, like you’re going to fake him out at the last second. you meet him halfway, setting it in his hands. 
“well?” you ask after a minute, “what do you think? i do pretty well, right?” 
he’s quiet—turning the flowers over and back again, like he’s committing all of the little petals to memory. “what are they?”
you tell him about each flower—where they grow naturally, what conditions they like to live in, how to take care of them. he listens intently, never looking away from them. 
“you don’t have to keep them,” you tell him after another moment of silence, “it was just a silly thing.”
“no,” he says, firmly. he looks at you out of the corner of his eye and lets out a breath, looking back down at the flowers. “s’nice. thanks.” 
you have to physically stop yourself from jumping up and cheering. 
“you’re welcome, old man,” you murmur, nudging his shoulder with your own.
he groans, grumbling a lighthearted “get away from me” as he shoves you back playfully. you let out some sort of dramatic squeal as you topple over, and you don’t miss the tiny smile that stretches across his face as he sets the flowers down next to him and gets back to work. 
customers come in and out throughout the afternoon—most not paying any mind to Touya as he works. there are a few customers that eye him hesitantly—and there are one or two that stare pointedly at the scars that split his face. it feels like second nature to drop the customer service persona then—and to do things like drop their change on the counter and revel in the way they scramble to catch it before it rolls off onto the floor. 
“have the best day,” you say to one particularly rude customer, all but shooing her out of the door. 
Touya huffs out a laugh when you walk back toward him. “didn’t think you had it in you, kid.” 
you cock an eyebrow at him. “what’s that supposed to mean?” 
“surprised you didn’t kick out her kneecaps on the way out.” 
“yeah, well,” you huff, waving a hand at the thought of someone so dreadfully rude, “she would’ve deserved it.” 
“why’s that?”
you meet his eyes, then, and for the first time since you met him you think about the fact that they’ve seen terrible things. you knew of Touya, of course—all of Japan did. you knew he’d been through something awful and did things that you couldn’t imagine the man in front of you doing now. you know that he would not be surprised if you told him the reason why you felt she deserved it. you wonder if it bothers him the way it bothers you, or if time has hardened him to his own mistreatment. 
“don’t worry about it,” you tell him, walking back behind the counter. 
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you haven’t seen much of Touya for the last few weeks. 
you’d gotten another big order—what would probably be one of the last before winter really set in— so you were busy. he’d stop by sometimes with the excuse of checking the floor (and always with a tea for you in hand), but you learn that he’s uncomfortable with lingering, and he’s usually gone as quickly as he came. 
you don’t mind—it’s nice to know he’s thinking of you. you’ve just been wondering if it’s in the way you want him to—and a lot more than you should be, lately. 
you concede to having a little crush on him. who wouldn’t? he’s incredibly sweet in his own way and very nice to look at and you suppose anyone would if they’d gotten the opportunity to get to know him over the several months that you have. so what if you’re thinking about where he’s at or if he’s eaten lunch or if he’s at the bar without you, more often than not? it’s just a little secret you keep to yourself.
you try not to think about how it’s one that would make him never speak to you again if he found out about it. 
you let out a groan, looking down at the half-formed bundle of alstroemeria and eucalyptus in your hands. you’d been staring at it for 20 minutes now and the motivation to continue just wasn’t coming. you suppose it was as good of a time as any to take a break. 
standing up from the floor and stretching your arms above your head, your spine rewards you with a few satisfying pops as you get yourself moving again. your eyes scan the shop, surveying the damage—most of it caused by you in the last few weeks, with scraps of paper wrap and loose stems strewn about. the shop could definitely use a deep cleaning, but little things like that were just part of routine upkeep, so you don’t mind. it’s only when you roll out your neck that you spot it: a tiny, but noticeable, brown stain on the ceiling that certainly wasn’t there before. you lift your phone above your head to snap a picture of it. 
sent 5:57pm>>> hi. do you think this is a big deal
received 5:59pm>>> looks like water damage
received 5:59pm>>> when did that happen?
sent 6:00 pm>>> not sure. just saw it
sent 6:00 pm>>> if i just pretend it’s not there will it go away?
received 6:01 pm>>> that ever worked for you before?
sent 6:04 pm>>> i don’t like your tone 
received 6:06 pm>>> cry about it. i’ll be over to look at it tomorrow
you smile at his brashness, setting your phone down on the counter. it really was very hard to not be enamored by him. you shake your head, trying to get rid of the thought like a wrong  answer in a magic 8 ball. you have no such luck, but you realize what time it is and feel relieved. It’s tuesday—you can finally start getting ready to see your family. 
you clean up and pull on the spare coat you have in the shop storage room, locking the shop door behind you as you leave. your grandparents don’t live far—just a mile or so down the road, and it’s not too cold to walk yet, so you don’t mind the trek. 
you have a standing weekly visit at your grandparents’ place. they’re just about the only family you have left, and they’re slowing down a bit. it’s meaningful to you to spend time with them when you can—even if your grandmother insists on filling it with her insistence that you find a boyfriend.
you know she means well, so you tolerate it. your grandparents’ love story is one for the ages—high school sweethearts, together and in love ever since. the dynamic is an amusing one—your grandmother, ever the chatterbox, and your grandfather, only ever amused and endeared by his wife’s inherent ability to take up space. you have always really admired their relationship, but a small part of you believed for a long time that there was something wrong with you for not being able to have the same thing. now that you’re older, you don’t feel that way—but that doesn’t make being on the receiving end of the badgering any easier. 
like you’ve summoned her with your thoughts, she’s on the front stoop when you approach the house—hand already on her hip like she’s winding up to start her lecture.
“i was starting to think you wouldn’t come!”
“am i late?” you ask genuinely, pulling your phone out to check the time. 6:26pm—you’re early. 
“you might as well be!” she quips, pulling you into a hug. you can smell dinner cooking through the open window behind her. you close your eyes, content to be held in the moment. you miss this feeling of home every time you leave—
“alright you old bat, s’fixed. you gotta quit dumping cooking oil down the—oh.”
your eyes snap open at the familiar voice and you find blue eyes staring back at you, shocked as you’ve ever seen them. you blink, still mid-embrace and trying to comprehend why Touya is standing in your grandmother’s doorway. or why he’s a little sweaty and dirty and wearing that tight old t-shirt. if he’s always worn a bandana to keep the hair out of his eyes, or if that’s a new thing and either way, why haven’t you seen it? it takes another long minute before you remember how to get words to come out of your mouth. 
“i–uh. hi...hi Touya.” you stutter a little, and your grandmother notices that you’ve gone completely rigid in her arms. she pulls away to look at you, and then at Touya, and back to you—
and your stomach drops when you see the most shit eating grin spread across her face. 
you give her your best you wouldn’t dare look. 
she just smiles at you sweetly as if to say: i absolutely would.
“do you have dinner plans, Mr. Todoroki?”
he blinks. “i–uh–”
“no? excellent. go wash up! you can join us.”
she starts back up to the door with more pep in her step than you’ve seen in a long time, patting Touya’s shoulder before shoving him unceremoniously to the side with surprising strength and walking back into the house. 
you’re left out there together, both clearly still trying to play catch up. true to your nature, you’re the first to break the silence.
“i see you’ve met my grandmother,” you say with a laugh, starting up the steps. he shakes himself in time to open the door for you.
“you’re related to that dinosaur?”
you pin him with your best glare. “that’s not nice. she came after the dinosaurs.”
he follows in after you, the smallest smirk on his face. that you caused it makes your chest feel light. 
dinner is relatively tame. to your genuine surprise, your grandmother sticks to easy topics, save for one comment about how you’re “getting up there” and should start thinking about children. 
“oh my god, Mam,” you squeeze the bridge of your nose, exasperated. you look to Touya for help—who is clearly very amused and not interested in saving you from this. 
“i’m just saying,” you grandmother waves a dismissive hand at you, “now who wants dessert?”
you leave the house a few hours later—with Touya in tow, because he refused to let you walk home in the dark by yourself. you certainly don’t mind the company.
“i can’t believe i didn’t put it together that you knew my grandparents,” you say, shaking your head. no wonder those bread loaves, months ago now, had looked so familiar. 
“been helpin’ them out with maintenance stuff around the house,” he mutters, the hands in his pockets the only indication that he feels the evening chill, “they’re good people.”
the way that he talks about them makes you feel warm. “i’m really happy to hear that,” you sigh. you bump into him, and he stays close. “i’m sorry you have to put up with all of my grandmother’s antics though.”
he huffs a laugh, looking at you from the corner of his eye, “s’not so bad. except maybe when she’s trying to arrange a marriage for me with half the town.”
“oh god,” you turn to him in absolute horror, “she does that to you, too? i thought it was just because i’m her grandkid. she really wants to have great grandkids.”
he laughs when you shudder. “what, you’re not gonna give ‘em to her?”
you make a face at that. “no. kids are great, just…not really something i ever wanted.”
you think you see him physically deflate with something akin to relief out of the corner of your eye. you smile and try not to read into it. 
the wind picks up and you shiver. Touya blinks down at you.
“you didn’t think to wear a thicker coat?”
you roll your eyes pointedly at him. “no, dad, i didn’t.”
he scowls at you, clearly not entertained, but then he’s shrugging off his own jacket and draping it over your shoulders.
“what are you doing? it’s too cold!”
“s’fine,” he mutters, brushing up against you with each step, “can’t really feel it.”
you go quiet while you consider this, eyes drifting to the textured skin that wraps around his bicep. there’s an ache in your chest that flares up whenever you think about Touya, small and proud and burned within an inch of his life. you wonder if he still feels it, 30 some odd years later. you want to reach for him, but you think better of it.
“do they hurt still?” you ask quietly, after a moment. 
“sometimes.”
you get the sense that he wouldn’t mind if you asked more, but you’re not sure what to say. you don’t think it would be fair to ask him to relive any of it to satisfy your own curiosity. there’s just one thing you’d still like to know. 
“are you angry?”
he gives you a small smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he looks down at you. his gaze is searching, like he’s looking for your fear—fear of him, of what he’s done. you know he won’t find any. 
“no.”
the rest of the walk home is shrouded in comfortable silence, save for the crunch of shoes against pavement. all too quickly you’re at the door to the shop again.
you dig for the keys for your apartment on the second floor while Touya leans against the door frame, watching you. 
you feel the metal dig into your palm when you close your fist around them. you look back up at him, and it’s almost startling how soft he looks right now. unguarded.
“can i hug you?” you ask, startling yourself a little. he’s so clearly not a touchy guy, but you hope he’ll indulge you—just this once. 
his eyes widen for a fraction of a second, and then his face smooths back into his practiced stoicism. he rolls his eyes, but steps forward anyway. you feel like you just won the lottery. 
“make it quick, brat.”
you nearly tackle him in your excitement and you hear him grumble next to your ear. you feel an arm loop around your shoulders, and you are suddenly very aware that your little crush is far larger than you thought. you file it away for later, because the beat of his heart against your ear feels far more important right now. everything about him is warm—you stifle a sigh at the immediate comfort that rolls over you like a wave. 
“now go inside before y’get sick.”
you resist the urge to pout. you stay there for another beat—and he doesn’t move either. 
you untangle yourself from him with a sigh. if you didn’t know any better, you’d interpret the look on his face as something close to disappointment. you start shrug your shoulders out of his jacket to hand it back to him, but he stops you.
“just, ah—” he starts, looking away from you, “give it back to me tomorrow. when i fix your fuckin’ mess.”
you raise an eyebrow, posturing to argue, but something in his expression tells you not to.
“okay,” you say finally, quiet between you, “be careful going home. goodnight, Touya.”
he lingers for a moment more before letting out a little grunt and turning on his heel. your eyes trail over the expanse of his shoulders as he grows fainter down the road until he disappears into the dark.
you drag yourself up the stairs, suddenly feeling exhausted. you stumble through the dark of your apartment until your knees knock into your bed frame. you fall into bed face first, not bothering to change or even get under the covers. still wrapped in the jacket that smells like him.
you dream of fire that warms but doesn’t burn. 
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“good morning, Mr. Todoroki.”
Touya nearly comes out of his skin, hissing as he hits his head off of the counter he’s crouched under. it would be impressive, how stealthy the old bat was, if it wasn’t so god damned annoying.
“how many times do i have to tell you not to call me that?” he grumbles, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head as he gets to his feet. she only chuckles.
“you’ll have to forgive me for not addressing you with the same familiarity that my granddaughter does.”
he whips his head around to look at her—which he finds to be a mistake, because she’s just looking at him with that knowing old lady smirk that makes his skin itch. 
“don’t know what you’re talkin’ about,” he mutters, stooping down to lodge himself as far under the counter as he needs to to avoid the rest of this conversation. 
“oh, please. do i look like i was born yesterday?”
he pauses, mid crouch, to look back at her over his shoulder. she clicks her tongue at him. “don’t answer that.”
“i think it would be nice for you both to have…companionship,” she settles on the last word like it’s not really what she wanted to say, and it reminds him far too much of his mother. usually he’d shut this conversation down, but for a reason unknown to him, he doesn’t. 
“don’t y’think i’m a little too old for her?” he asks, half-joking. he’d be a liar to say that he hadn’t thought about it at length. 
she waves a dismissive hand at him, rolling her eyes. “oh please—you wouldn’t know too old if it hit you upside the head.” 
he hides another smirk from her—which she seems to expect anyway, shaking her head with a sigh. 
“you’re both babies still,” she says quietly, with all of the wisdom and yearning of someone who has lived as long as she has, “you have nothing but time. just don’t waste it.”
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Touya’s not sure when the shift happened, but he’s acutely aware that it has happened. 
he’s doesn’t know when he started allowing you to touch him. he’s usually uncomfortable with that sort of thing—it tends to aggravate his skin and it does well to make him feel queasy. but you lay your arm over his to show him something about your flowers on your phone, and he doesn’t feel any urge to reel back from you. he wants to be surprised at his lack of reaction, but he supposes he’s not—proximity to him has always been something you’ve insisted on, physical or otherwise. 
the bar is crowded tonight, which leaves him feeling uneasy. the noise level grates at his nerves and he finds himself having to lean into you just to hear what you’re saying. it sours his mood immensely. 
he’s scowling into his beer when he feels you crowd his space. his head snaps up, ready to gripe at you, and he finds you’re turned away from him. he looks around you and sees that your space has been crowded—by some rowdy little punk he’s never seen before.
immediately and on some sort of primal instinct, Touya wraps an arm around you, yanking you into his side. you brace yourself with a hand on his chest to avoid flat out headbutting his chin. 
“hey,” he snarls over your head, eyes like daggers at the offender, “watch where you’re fuckin’ going.”
the man turns around, posturing to defend himself, but one look at Touya has his eyes widening in the same expression of fear that he sees on everyone else’s face. usually the reaction sits in his stomach like a rock, but this time, he revels in it. “and while you’re at it, you can apologize to her.”
his looks down at the ground immediately, unwilling to spend another minute under scrutiny. 
“sorry about that,” he mutters dejectedly. Touya feels your grip tighten around the hem of his shirt, but to his surprise, you say nothing. 
“get the fuck out of here,” he barks, and he holds back a laugh as the man does just that—completely forgetting about the drink he ordered. 
shaking his head, he lets you go—expecting you to scramble away from him and back to your stool. he feels himself cringe—he probably embarrassed you.
he’s worried when he realizes you’re still tethered to him by the fabric of his shirt. 
“hey,” he murmurs, trying to push you back gently to look at your face, “you alright, kid? you’re not hurt, are you?”
you let go of him, albeit reluctantly. you only move back far enough to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. he can only think of how close you are.
“Touya,” you rasp, cheeks flushed and looking at him through half-hooded eyes, “that was, um—really hot.”
he blinks at you, a little dumbfounded. his eyes rake over your face, trying to find the punchline somewhere. wholly anticipating you to snap out of it and laugh at him—to tell him what a fool he is for falling for such a cruel joke.
but your expression never changes, and he realizes at once that it’s one of desire. 
a shudder wracks up his spine. he pulls you toward him again, splaying his fingers across your back to feel the way it arches into him. he dips his head down, lips next to your ear. fighting a smirk at the way you shiver in his hold.
“come back to mine?”
you nod emphatically, and he’d tease you about it if he wasn’t feeling the same level of urgency. he throws a couple bills on the bar top and all but hauls you out the door. he has no idea what he’s doing, but he’s half out of his mind right now and can’t find it within himself to think it over before he does something he might regret. 
his own desire is nearly stifling, and he finds he can’t go another minute without something to satiate him, if only for a moment. he pulls you into the alley next to the bar, crowding you against the brick.
“you drunk?” he asks suddenly—slivers of rationality making it through the haze of such thick lust. you laugh a little, breathy and overwhelmed. he can see the puff of steam from your exhale between you in the cold. 
“not at all,” you murmur, reaching for him. you wrap a finger around one of his belt loops and pull him toward you—he knows with an unsettling certainty that he’d do whatever you asked him to right now. the knowledge burns him from the inside.
“tell me to stop,” his lips are only a breath away from yours, and yet he almost wishes you would tell him to stop, because he’s not sure what comes after this. he’s alarmed by the weight of his own need, and he has a hunch that whatever happens next may not be enough to quell it. 
he has the sudden and sobering thought that he may never get his fill of you. 
“no,” you breathe, and it’s all he needs to bridge the distance. he’s instantly overwhelmed by the soft warmth of your mouth, and lets out a quiet groan when he feels your tongue swipe at the seam of his. he opens his mouth to taste more of you, and he truly cannot get enough. you pull his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it gently, and he is nearly frantic when he pulls away from you. he feels absolutely debauched and a little humiliated—in his 40-some odd years, he’s never known himself to get so worked up over some kissing. 
“we need to go right now,” he rasps, panting against your mouth. he feels your smile against him and wants to swallow you whole. 
“lead the way, old man.”
he barely registers making it through the door—has no idea how he managed to unlock it, let alone open it—before he has you pressed up against it. to touch you like this feels foreign, and he wants to feel everything. after a moment, he gets impatient with himself. he grabs you around the backs of your thighs, hauling you up and carrying you to his bedroom. he has half a mind to thank Buck later, for not bounding between the two of you and ripping him from whatever trance you have him suspended in right now. 
he drops you onto the bed unceremoniously and is quick to follow, mouth chasing yours on the way down. you pull your shirt off and he helps you with your pants—he can’t help but pull back to marvel at you.
your demeanor changes immediately.
you're entirely too tense, breath hitching and your grip on his arms uncomfortably tight. he pulls back to look at you and you flinch. 
“jesus—the fuck are you so jumpy for?”
"i don't know!" you cross your arms over your chest with a huff, red when you look away from him. "maybe i just don't do this as often as you, okay?"
he snorts, rolling his eyes. "i don't do this often."
it’s not exactly the truth—because the truth is that he doesn't do this at all—but he's still got his pride. he’d been touched before, but mostly in his 20s and only when he was just shy of belligerent. only when he could go numb with the certainty that it would be over quickly and that he wouldn’t remember it in the morning. 
no one could hold a flame to you, though—sprawled out underneath him, chest heaving and eyes hooded with unbridled desire. something about it makes him want to reach into the ether and stop time with his bare hands. he wants to savor every bead of sweat that rolls down the curve of your breast, every touch that makes your pupils dilate—the primal need to know takes over everything else.
“i just…” you start, lip jutting out with the tiniest pout. he feels insane. “i feel nervous.”
something inside him twists at your admission, and he finds himself wanting to comfort you. it’s a completely unfamiliar feeling, but he leans into it. 
"relax," he murmurs, unwinding your arms and replacing them with his full body weight, directly on top of you. you squeak, and he presses his smile into the crook of your neck. "don't have to do anything you're not ready for."
he feels you slump underneath him—however minutely—and it feels like a reward. and then your hips kick into his, and his brain short circuits. 
he pushes back onto his forearms to look at you, and he's endeared by the flush that creeps up your neck as you avoid his gaze. he finds it cute, how quickly you lay your ego down for him. that in itself is another reward, and one he doesn't take lightly.
you might be a little embarrassed under his stare, but that doesn't stop the roll of your hips. yours is a slow grind up into him and he meets you with one of his own, firm and demanding. your mouth drops open and the way you shudder under him pulls a groan from him. 
"feel good?" he rasps, sneaking a hand around the back of your neck and holding you there, nosing against your cheek until you turn to him.
"yes."
it's borderline pornographic when it leaves you and his hips stutter—he feels it buzzing underneath his skin as it pushes him closer to a place wholly unfamiliar. 
through his jeans, he's sure you can feel him—hot and aching against the flimsy material of your panties. he huffs a laugh against your lips—suddenly acutely aware of the possibility that he may cum in his pants like a fucking teenager. 
you seem to be aware of that, too. 
you kiss him hard and he nearly whines, and then he actually does when you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull. he reels back from you to catch his breath and you don't let him go very far. 
"you feel so good," murmured into his mouth, it's nearly his undoing. 
"you gotta stop," it sounds a lot like a plea when it leaves him, "i can't—i'm gonna—”
you hook a leg around his waist, keeping him pressed to you. he knows at once that he is well and truly fucked in a fundamental and totally unrelated way. 
"no," you drawl, and it's almost a coo in his ear, "i don't think i will."
he doesn't know when you took the upper hand and he doesn't even care. he's lost in the movement of your hips and he knows that there's a mess between you both—he hears the tacky click of damp fabric meeting with every grind into you. 
"you're—fuckin' wet," he grits out, and he's so close. the knowledge of your arousal has him curling in on himself.
you chuckle, like he's stating something so obvious. "how could i not be?"
he rewards you with a particularly sinful thrust, and you keen underneath him. 
"please," you arch into him, "want you to cum."
and he does just that—all the breath is battered out of him with the force of it. his cock throbs with every wave of release in his jeans and he keeps himself pressed snuggly to you, hips thrusting with no particular rhythm as he rides out the last of it. he keeps his face pressed into your neck and lets out a long, broken groan. he stays there—full body weight collapsed on top of you again—and it's a moment before he comes back to his senses enough to feel your fingers scratch over his scalp. 
"fucking hell," he presses a kiss to your throat and you giggle. it warms something inside of him that's hard to shake once it starts. he has the sneaking suspicion—in this fleeting moment of vulnerability—that it started well before now. 
he gathers his wits and pushes back from you. he sees the look on your face and finds that he couldn't go any farther than an arm's length away, even if he tried. 
adoration. it could only be that—you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky, and it twists in his gut. he doesn't understand—he's done so many wrong things. you look at him like they don't hang above his head—like you can't see them there.
what a sweet little thing that's found their way into his bed. and deeper than that, it seems. 
"want to taste you," he murmurs, leaning back down to drag his lips over the curve of your jaw. you draw in a shuddering breath, nodding, and it fans his ego immensely. 
he takes his time, then—there's intention behind every warm press of his mouth to every inch of your skin. he takes note of the way your breath hitches, and of what makes you squirm. you tip your head back with a moan when he catches a bead of sweat between the valley of your breasts with his tongue. 
you breathe out a whisper of his name when he latches on to the skin that stretches over your ribs, and he feels his own arousal swell again—sloshing around in his gut, thick and needing. he finds himself grinding his hips into the mattress below him—lazy, really. just enough to dull the ache. 
"hold on," you croak, and he looks up at you, "you’re too dressed."
he looks down at himself and realizes that you’re right—he’s still fully clothed. he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head at his own one track mind, and sits up to take care of it. 
he grabs the back of his t-shirt and pulls it over his head in a fluid motion. he feels your gaze on him and feels a little bashful. he’s even quicker with the jeans—soiled and gross as they are now—shoving them down his hips and kicking them from his ankles until his clad in only his (also gross) boxers and leaning over you again. 
you reach for him, brushing your fingertips over the scar across his chest. he half expects you to pull away—to recoil from him like you should—but you don’t. 
“need you, Touya.”
he could just die. 
"s'that right?" he bends down to press another hot kiss to the skin that stretches between your hips. he fixates on the softness of it, and has to stop himself from nuzzling into it. he'd love to draw this out—to really get you pleading for him like he hopes you would, writhing and so wet underneath him. but his own patience nears its end, so he decides to be merciful. he shuffles down until he's eye level with the damp spot in your panties that makes him curse under his breath. 
"look at you," he breathes, dragging a finger through the mess. you let out a whine, arching to chase what little stimulation he's giving you. "poor thing. y'really do need it."
he doesn't wait for your response before his hooking a finger through the fabric and dragging it off of you. a string of your arousal stretches and snaps with it, and he commits the sight to memory. 
he wastes no time—he sticks his tongue out flat and drags it through your folds, groaning at the slick that coats it. 
"oh fuck," you wheeze, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair to keep him there.
as if you'd ever need to do that. 
he can't get enough of you. so swollen and sweet against his tongue, he's nearly out of his mind with the need for more of it. he dips the tip of his tongue inside you and feels you squeeze around it, and it's unbearable how badly he wants more of you. 
"Touya," you groan out, eyes squeezed shut tight as he pulls your clit into his mouth and sucks, "please—please don't stop—"
he thinks you're fucking insane for ever believing he would. he pulses his tongue against your clit and revels in the way your back arches as you wail—he reaches up to pinch a pebbled nipple between his heated fingers just to feel you.
"oh fuck, fuck fuck—" the words tumble out of your mouth, slurred and nearly incoherent as he flattens out his tongue and lets you chase your pleasure.
in the throes of it, you reach down to tangle your fingers between his own. he's not sure if you even know that you've done it, but the knowledge that you seek him out for such an innocent display comfort has his heart fluttering in his chest. he gives your nipple a particularly harsh tug with his other hand.
"oh i'm gonna cum—" you cry, hips stuttering with every drag of your sex over his tongue, "please, Touya, i'm gonna—"
he squeezes your fingers when you do, and you let out a sob that goes straight to his cock. he feels you tense up—every muscle rigid for only a moment—and then you let it go, and he's mesmerized. it moves through you violently, like waves crashing into the shore during a storm. he keeps your clit between his lips as you thrash, letting you buck against his face, dragging it out for as long as he can. 
he waits until he hears your breathing return to a semi-normal pace before he cleans you up—with his tongue, light and gentle through your folds, not wanting to waste any of the mess you reward him with. he forgets himself and slips his tongue inside of you—drinking up all of your slick. basking in the way you flutter around him and the sweet slide of you down his throat. he only comes back to himself when you start to tremble, whining at the overstimulation. 
he rests his head on the inside of your thigh and closes his eyes, breathing you in. never in his life has he ever felt so satiated by something—it confuses him, to get so much pleasure from you without you ever even touching him. he feels you squeeze his fingers and realizes he's still holding your hand. 
"you with me, kid?"
you sigh, stretching your free leg out. "think so, old man."
he untangles your fingers to rub at your leg, reaching down to knead at the muscles in your calf. you sigh, light and content, and it makes him smile. it's quiet between you then, and he's grateful that you don't feel the need to fill it. he pulls your leg over his shoulder, moving to massage the outside of your thigh. 
"good to me," you sigh sleepily, and he knows you're only a second from falling asleep. 
he doesn't answer—his throat suddenly feels too thick and he doesn't think he can—he just keeps rubbing your muscles gently until your breathing evens out. 
he finds that he doesn't mind being trapped between your legs like this. when he thinks he might even be able to fall asleep, he realizes for the second time that he's in far deeper than he thought he'd be.
he lets his eyes flutter closed and has a hard time thinking of anything wrong with that. 
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there’s another shift, after that. the only person that seems to be oblivious to it is you. 
it’s not that you haven’t noticed, because of course you have. Touya becomes uncharacteristically touchy, literally overnight. you bask in it when you can, because you know it’s fleeting. 
that’s where you split off from, well—everyone else. 
“c’mon kid, you can’t honestly think that.”
you huff, glaring into your drink. Touya’s friends had jumped at the opportunity to heckle you the minute he stood up to go to the restroom. you find it endearing, the way they act like little old ladies, gossiping amongst themselves. 
“we’re not together,” you repeat, albeit bitterly, “it’s not like that for him.”
the friend closest to you barks out a laugh, and you pin him with your meanest stare. it only makes him laugh harder. he’s wiping tears from his eyes when Touya comes back, filling the space between you. 
it hurts tremendously to know that this is temporary, and you feel ridiculous for feeling that way. it’s not like it comes as a surprise—you knew very well that Touya wasn’t one for romance or love. you thought you could live with that, especially with the sex being as good as it is—but it was just so easy to believe the opposite was true, because he really was good to you. if you allowed yourself to forget, it was nothing at all to pretend he was because he wanted this, too. 
still—like a magnet, you’re drawn to him. you hop down from your stool to stand beside his, and rest your head on his shoulder. 
“you hungry?,” he turns to murmur into your hair, “i’ll get you fries or somethin’.”
“wow, fries” you scoff, rolling your eyes, “how chivalrous.”
you feel him grin. “wasn’t raised in a barn.”
it’s a bad joke. it lodges itself in your skin and makes you ache for him. you try not to dwell on it. 
“you could’ve fooled me.”  
he rolls his eyes back at you with a little tch, but it’s lighthearted. he slings his arm around your neck and pulls you closer until you’re pressed into the warmth of his side, and presses a kiss to your temple. 
“you know, most men would give up their seats for pretty women.” you tease, leaning into his touch. 
“let me know if you see one, then.” 
“hey!”
he laughs, brushing his lips against your forehead again before leaning back, patting his thigh. 
“c’mon then, pretty lady.”
you feel warm as you climb up into his lap, and when you settle in, it’s like a key inside of a lock. you pointedly ignore the knowing glance from the man to your right, choosing instead to feel every inch that connects you to Touya. it feels like a reward, to mold to him this well—like something you’re owed after trimming off every one of his prickly little thorns for as long as you have. you want to tell him so, but you know he’d clam up or shove you off of him. you keep your feelings where they simmer under your skin and focus on the way his hand trails over the curve of your hip—back and forth, like he means to soothe, but his warmth feels like a brand. you close your eyes and imagine a reality in which he does it because he loves you.  
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“you alright?”
it sounds odd, coming from him—like he’s not used to asking the question. you suppose he’s not—he’s never had anyone to check up on. he reaches to brush a strand of hair from your face, and his fingers linger over your brow bone.
you’d been quiet since you left the bar—you’d followed him back to his house with an uncharacteristically little amount of banter. you’d been pliant as he pulled you down on the bed with him—nearly boneless and without so much as a teasing bite on the way down. 
despite yourself, you feel your eyes start to burn. you let out a clipped curse, blinking rapidly and looking pointedly away from him—hoping he wouldn’t press you about it. 
he does. 
“hey, hey,” he says softly, reaching to grab your chin with warm, calloused fingers and turning you to face him, “what’s goin’ on?” 
his blatant concern makes it worse—drives the knife a little deeper into your side—because it’s so starkly different (and far more intimate) from the Touya you started with. it only serves as a reminder of your original suspicion having long been confirmed—that he cares for you because he’s good. not because he loves you. not because he feels this unbearable, aching need that you do. you know there’s no escaping him now—he’s seeded himself somewhere deep in your chest and taken root. when his thumb brushes down over the curve of your jaw, you know that there’s no stopping the words that are about to come out of your mouth. 
“i love you,” the tears crest and fall, and you ache when he brushes them away before they can slip down your temples, “i’m really sorry.”
you’re a little surprised when you see his eyebrows knit together slightly in an emotion that’s definitely not the overt and immediate dismay you thought it would be, but you close your eyes before you can see anything else—before you can watch him pull away from you, genuinely and for the last time. 
you go rigid when you feel his forehead knock into yours, gently and only for an instant. 
“s’that such a bad thing?”
your eyes snap open, and you think the sight might kill you—he’s open and giving you everything with a willingness that makes your breath stutter in your chest. he has his head propped up on his hand to look at you, and it’s almost enough to disarm you completely. 
“don’t be cruel if you’re going to leave,” you hear yourself plead, despite what you’re seeing. he only snorts. 
“and what makes you so sure i’ll do that?”
“i know that you don’t do this shit.”
he smiles at that—a little thing that stretches across his face slow. it amuses him to hear you swear. 
“you’re right,” he murmurs, reaching to brush his fingers over your jaw again. holding you there so gently that it aches. “i don’t. s’different now, though.” 
you blink at him through the sting in your eyes, more confused than anything. he lets out a slow sigh, but it’s not in frustration. 
“you’re stuck to me now,” he says with such a fondness that you feel the words stick themselves to your bones, “m’not going anywhere.”
“i’m not trapping you here, Touya—“
“you’re not,” he agrees, with more patience than he’s ever afforded you. something starts to click in your mind, but for some reason, you find yourself fighting it. 
“you don’t—you’re not—“
“hey,” he cuts you off with a flick to your forehead, “listen to what i’m tellin’ you.”
“it’s…hard. for me.” he says after thinking for a moment, eyebrows furrowed again like he’s trying to make up the words from scratch. “i‘m used to bein’ alone. never really thought about anybody else.”
you’re silent then, mostly stunned, because you don’t think he’s ever said so many words to you. not like this. 
“i’m outta my depth here, kid,” it’s nearly whispered and it feels sacred, like a confession between you. you’re suddenly very aware that he’s giving you something that he’s parting with for the first time in his life. “but i can’t think about ya anywhere but here now. makes me feel a little sick.” 
you reach for him then—tentative fingertips brushing over the rapid fluttering of his heart. he gathers them in his hand and holds you there. 
“i might not be any good at this. but i’d like to try.” 
his words hit your ears one at a time, like coins slotted into a carnival game—they reach your mind with a heavy clink and only when the last one drops in do you really hear him. he’s no casanova, but you understand the sentiment under his words as if he’d spoken it aloud. 
you close your eyes and draw in one more shuddering breath, and it knocks loose the last of your reservations. you turn on your side, facing him fully, meeting the blue of his eyes with a slow smile that makes them narrow at you in suspicion. 
“jeez. you didn’t have to go all soft on me.”
he scoffs, shaking his head. “glad to have you back, you fuckin’ brat.” 
you laugh and he chases the sound, leaning forward until your foreheads knock together again. this time, he stays put. 
“tell me again,” he murmurs, and your heart balloons inside your chest. 
“i love you.”
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epilogue—1 year later
Touya trudges up the steps to your apartment after finishing up at your grandparents’. you’d think he’d agreed to remodel the whole house, with how often they call him over now. 
he had a hunch that he wasn’t really there just to make repairs, and he didn’t mind. he knew how much your family meant to you, and he’d be lying if he said they weren’t growing on him, too.
“you bring our girl over here to see us,” the old bat called after him as he walked out the door, “don’t let her work herself to death.”
he was quick to agree, because his concerns were similar—you’d gotten busy as the weather started to warm with the first hint of spring, and you did not appear to be particularly skilled at taking breaks or prioritizing yourself. predictable, but no less annoying. 
walking up the steps to the home you now share, he looks down at the squirming thing in his arms and lets out a sigh. 
it didn’t take much convincing for him to agree to move in. he got to see you everyday (which allowed him to ensure you were, at the very least, feeding yourself) and Buck was over the moon at living in a new space if that meant he could be with you all the time. he couldn’t find a reason to say no (and he really, really didn’t want to), so it was easy to say yes. the smile you gave him when he agreed is imprinted on his heart. 
“babe? you here?”
you call to him in response from the kitchen, not looking up at him when he walks in—you’re hunched over the counter in front of your laptop, going through orders while Buck lays at your feet. he makes no move to greet Touya—in fact, the only acknowledgement Buck spares him is a few thuds of his tail against the tile. Touya narrows his eyes at him. traitor.
“hi,” you murmur, turning your body like you’re going to look at him—except you don’t actually look away from the computer.
“hi,” he grins, not moving in to kiss you like he usually does. waiting for you to turn to him. 
“what did Mam need—oh.”
you’re finally looking at him—except you’re not really looking at him at all, because your eyes are focused on the shivering thing in his arms. 
you look at it, and to him, and then back to it. you’re quiet for a beat, clearly trying to process, and then the thing nearly jumps out of his arms when you throw your head back and laugh.
“what the hell is that—” you say through a wheeze, wiping your eyes on your sleeve,  “Touya—oh my god—where did you get that?”
you close the proximity between you—finally, he thinks—and he bends to kiss your temple when you take the chihuahua from his arms. instantly Buck is on his feet, sniffing the air but otherwise content just to look at the dog in your arms. Touya feels relief at the non-reaction—you really had taught his dog some manners. 
“the fuckin’ thing was rooting around in the trash,” he mutters, slinging an arm around your shoulders, “figured you’d be mad at me if i left ‘im there.”
you roll your eyes and he knows you know it’s a lie—he wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he’d left the dog there. 
“are we keeping him?” you ask absentmindedly, scratching his tiny head. it works to subdue him—the shaking stops (mostly) and he lets out a little huff before relaxing in your hold. it makes you smile, and Touya thinks he’d fill this whole fucking house with chihuahuas if it meant he could see it again. 
“do y’want to?”
you let out a stray chuckle, finally looking up at him. “i guess he’d fit, won’t he?”
he feels the grin stretch across his face. “i don’t know. it’d be a tight squeeze.”
you snort, reaching with your free hand to poke at his ribs. “you have to name him, you know.”
“fuck,” he groans dramatically, pulling another giggle from you, “fine. what about…” he trails off, wracking his brain and looking around the kitchen, praying for even a semblance of inspiration. he sees your half-eaten lunch on the counter, and he thinks about the moldy cold cut he’d had to wrestle out of the little shit’s surprising tight grip—
“lunch meat.”
“...i’m sorry?”
“his name is lunch meat.”
you laugh at that, and the sound reverberates off every cell in his body. 
“it’s a good thing we’re not having kids,” you say through a giggle, “they’d have the worst names.”
he grins at you and you just shake your head, cooing to the tiny dog in your arms. Touya peels himself from you, settling against the counter just to watch. the other surprise—the one he’d actually planned—involved a fancy dinner in the next town over, because it is your anniversary, after all—but right now it feels like he has nothing but time, and to do anything but stand here and feel every second with you would feel like a waste.
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this fic belongs to me (@gardenofnoah). i do not allow anyone to repost, edit, or reproduce this work.    
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tired-teacher-blog · 10 months
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If your relationship with Dabi has taught you anything in the course of your years together as a couple, it would be to never announce your imminent orgasm when his head is buried deep between your legs and his tongue is skillfully flicking on the glistening folds of your pussy, and that is because he's a cruel bastard who would stop it in the blink of an eye once you shakily speak your declaration.
He simply cannot help it, emerging slowly to gaze at your tear-streaked cheeks and flushed glowing skin as you whine a plea after another for him to grant you that release only he could ever provide.
He's always been mesmerized by you —the most beautiful thing in his pathetic life, especially in moments like this, and it's a view he wishes to engrave in his head for eternity.
However, that one fateful night you tricked him into believing it was safe to carry on, biting back your usual whimpers and grabbing onto the bedsheets underneath yourself instead of pulling on his hair like you always do, was when you climaxed around his tongue uninterrupted, making it your first win against his ruthless torments.
That one fateful night you braced yourself for a discipline, heaving chest, blurry eyes and afterglow casting a dazzling seductiveness to your captivating beauty as you awaited for him to come into view and growl his dissatisfaction, only for a gasp to escape your throat when he surprisingly kept quiet.
His eyes were wide, lips slightly parted and larynx bobbing as he swallowed thickly. He looked flustered and at loss for words for once.. Interesting.
You failed to understand at first, that catching him off guard like you had done moments before, intensified his already unbearable arousal and unlocked a new fantasy within himself that neither of you knew excited.
The moment you defied him, crashed his head into submission and squeezed your thighs around him tightly so he wouldn't escape until you finally reached a splintering orgasm that rocked your core and shockwaves of pleasure that followed suit, was the moment he knew it wouldn't be the last time he gives in to you.
_ "Focus gorgeous, we're going to do that again."
It shouldn't be the last time he gives in to you.
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http-tokki · 1 year
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Do you want me to kiss you?
~ dabi x reader ~ tag/cw: mha spoilers, fluff, friends to lovers, they kiss!!! ~ wc: 300
Dabi not wanting to kiss you because of the staples and skin but you just want to love him staples, burnt skin, and all so you just grab ahold of his face and pull him close; nose to nose, forehead to forehead and ask one final time.
“Do you want to kiss me?”
You can see the hesitation flicker in his eyes so you repeat the question. “Do you want to kiss me? do you want my mouth on yours? is this something you want and would do ?”
“Yes, I want it more than anything” he admits, voice breathless as his hands come to rest on your waist. “I want to kiss you so fucking bad but I don’t want to gross you-“
“Shut up” you sigh and press your mouth against his.
Dabi’s breath hitches in his throat as his hands grasp the flannel of your shirt. His lips are still against yours for a second but as you tilt your head, he kisses you back. Melting into your touch his mouth opens under yours, love pouring into him. He tastes of cigarettes and toothpaste, the tang of blood from stretched skin lingers as you slide your tongue along his bottom lip. Dabi groans and opens his mouth wider, his tongue flicking back against yours. The grip he has on your clothes is iron, holding you against him afraid if he loosens his hold you’ll disappear. There’s so much in that kiss, so many unspoken thoughts and feelings, so much passion and love and lust by the time you pull apart, you’re both panting.
“I’ve wanted to do that for so long, you have no idea” he breathes, fingers now stroking along your forehead.
“I’m gonna do it again” There’s a hint of questioning in your tone. “you ready?”
Dabi nods eagerly. “Yes please.”
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soadawritesstuff · 1 year
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Video games
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Pairing: best friend!touya todoroki x fem!reader
Warnings: Smut with too much plot, fluff (?), Minors DNI, quirkless au, friends-to-lovers, unprotected sex, penetration, oral sex (fem. receiving), mild swearing, pet-names (doll, princess etc.), intoxication, alcohol consumption, reader isn't referred to by name, reader has female genetalia, probably some grammar mistakes
Synopsis: What was supposed to be a comfortable game-night with your best friend quickly took a drift as the drinking game Touya suggested leads to something way steamier
A/N: I don't know why and how this ended up this long but I had a bunch of fun with it. Also this turned out fluffier than intended, you're welcome lol. Of course all characters belong to Kohei Horikoshi. The banner is from the Manga Dengeki Daisy.
You were excited for this weekend. Not that you weren't excited for every other weekend as well, but you have been looking forward to seeing your best friend since he texted you a long awaited: "Hey, I finally got this weekend off, wanna hang?"
You haven't seen Touya in MONTHS, both his job and your schedule occupied too much time for a proper meet-up. Every time you planned something, a random emergency prevented it from happening: a curse that seemed to haunt the both of you.
So Touya and you agreed to just have a slow day, veg on his couch and play video games. Maybe watch a Ghibli movie as well. Anything else was too stressfull and neither of you had the energy to do something more elaborate. Both of you organised snacks (which were, of course ,already carefully chosen over text) and you brought games from home in case Touya didn't already have them.
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At exactly 7pm you stood in front of your best friend's apartment door, knocking your usual knock-pattern the two of you created when you were kids. His doorbell didn't work and he was too busy but also too lazy to fix it, he wouldn't even contact his landlord about it.
You heard mufffled curses shortly after you knocked followed by rushed shuffeling which you presumed was Touya's attempt of quickly cleaning up. A notorious procrastinator as usual. The door openes and in front of you appears a slightly messy looking Touya in black sweats and a white shirt. A wide grin spreads on both of your faces as he steps forward to hug you.
His hugs were the bomb, you always felt so safe and warm whenever you hugged him. His cologne sneaks it's way up your nose as your face is comfortably smooshed against Touya's chest, a boyish chuckle escaping from the man that you call your best friend.
"I missed ya, you clown", his big hands ruffle your hair making you squeal as you shimmey out of his hug, your hands trying to fix what he so shamelessly destroyed.
"My haiiir, Touya you ASS"
"What, doesn't matter anyways, it's just me", a mischievous glint flickers in his eyes, "Or did you pretty yorself up just for me?". Not even 5 minutes in and he already got an eyeroll out of you.
"In your dreams, dirtface"
And with that you waste no time and march right into is apartment. You just hear a "yeah yeah" behind you but you will not give into his bs just yet.
You toss your sneakers next to the entrance and flop down on his comfy couch. So many mario kart sessions were held on that couch. Glorious victories and devastating losses.
"So, what are we playin'?", you hear Touya shifting around in the kitchen that is connected to the living-space.
"Mario Kart and whatever I have laying around", he carries the chips bag he just got over to the couch, already snatching one from the bag before you even got the chance to grab some.
A grin spreads on your face.
"Oh I will so kick your ass"
"big words for a loser"
"You are dead meat Tou"
And with that the two of you busy yourselves with cussing each other out and laughing, both of you blue-shelling the other countless times. Touya's winning tactic consits of trying to block your range of motion so dealing with him taking over all your couch-space made it hard for you to get a win.
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After two hours both of you got bored, you played every track a billion times.
"I wish there was a new game-mode or something" you sat criss-cross on Touya's couch, head resting on his shoulder as he puts his controller to the side.
"How about we turn this into a drinking game?", you turn your head too look at him. He just smirks. The suggestion lingers in your mind for a few seconds.
"And how exactly would that work?"
"Hold on"
Touya swiftly makes his way to the kitchen. You hear glasses clinking and the fridge being opened. Shortly after your best friend returns with two shot glasses and a bottle of Vodka.
"Woahh, I haven't had a sip of alcohol in a year, ain't that a bit much?"
"Oh relax, you're gonna be fiiine", Touya puts the two shot glasses down in front of you on the couch-table.
"It's simple. We play rainbow road. Whenever someone falls down the track, they take a shot. First one to finish the race wins. Easy enough, right?"
"..I don't know Touya"
"You're just scared you're gonna lose", that mischievous look returns on his face.
"Am not!"
"Oh? What was that?", Touya begins to make chicken noises "I think I just heard a chicken"
"Stop it Touya!"
"There it was again, chicken." You try to swat him, unsuccessfully. "What's wrong chicken? You scared that you're gonna lose?Hm? HM?!"
"FINE", there was no way getting out of this one. Once Touya has an idea you basically already lost. It's not like you want to be a killjoy or boring, you just weren't sure what would happen if both of you were highly drunk. You weren't sure nothing would happen. And you didn't know what would happen to your friendship. Touya and you were always playfully flirty around each other and you would be lying if you said you didn't wish you were more than best friends sometimes.
But you couldn't lose your oldest and strongest friendship in your life. Everything was way too risky for your liking. But Touya's pain-in-the-assery left you no other choice.
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You forgot all about your previous worries as soon as you started playing.
The first few rounds weren't too bad, you only fell off the evil rainbow-track a couple of times and even won one race. But with every round it got significantly harder, with every shot the track got even more evil. Touya fell off a good amount of times as well, but he seemed to be holding up much better than you.
.
You were laughing histerically as Touya fell off the track shortly before the finish line, allowing the Luigi NPC to win instead of him. Both of you lost count of how many shots you drank and how many rounds you actually played.
"Tou I am exhaustedddd"
"Jus' one more doll", Touya had swung his arm around you some time before this round but you honestly didn't remember when.
"Nah Tou, I can't anymoreee", Touya leans close tou your ear, squeezing you closer to him.
"Please doll, I promise 's the last one" his tired and gravelly voice slurred against the shell of your ear.
"I can't hold my 'ontroller right, I'll die if I fall off one more time"
"Y'don't have to play alone, w'can play together, see", he grabs your waist and shifts you between his criss-crossed legs, your back hitting his torso.
"Ya don't need to drink, I jus wanna play one last round", He loops his arms around your waist, putting his chin on top of your head and pulling you closer.
"Here, we'll play with my controller"
Touya pushes his controller into your hands, placing his on top of yours while his head still sat on top of yours.
He was so painfully close, your face turning hotter and hotter the longer you played. Him guiding your hands lazily while watching the track had something oddly comforting as well as feeling his heartbeat pressed against your back. Everything was just so warm and fuzzy, you didn't even notice the growing hard-on in your best friend's sweatpants.
It was only after you made the finish line that you felt a certain something poking your lower back. Holy crap.
"Touya.."
"Mmm?"
"I can feel you.."
Silence. He probably didn't immediately catch what you even meant.
"I mean your dick"
Oh.
His body shifts slightly, you can feel it even more now. Touya grabs your waist again, electricity rushing through your veins.
"Sorry doll, 's just what happens when your body is that close", his voice is just above a whisper by now. Touya's hot breath trickles your neck, all your hair stands on end.
"I just don't really know what to do" your voice left the chat long ago. You can't bring yourself to speak up, even now your words come out shaky.
"Do you want to do something?" Touya starts to nibble just behind your ear, freeing a whimper from your lips.
"Tou~..."
"If you wanna stop, y'gotta tell me now. Because I won't.."
You can't even think straight. Everything turned foggy and you don't know if it's Touya or the alcohol.
"I...don't want to stop"
"Good", his voice is barely audible yet so dominant.
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Touya proceeds to place a trail of kisses down your neck, stopping at the base to leave a nasty hickey along the way. Your hands find his hair as Touya slowly starts to peel off the layers of your outfit, one-by-one. You turn around to face him, all of your garments on the floor except for your underwear.
The look in his eyes is swarmed with lust and something unreadable, that face of his is so incredibly close but something keeps you from connecting your lips to his. He places a hand onto the small of your back and lays you back-down onto the couch. Something about him hovering above you gives you the worst case of butterflies in your stomach, excitement and arousal bubbles up and spreads across your entire body.
Sitting on his knees, staring down at your exposed body, the white haired man pulls his shirt above his head, revealing just the silver chain around his neck and a trail of white pubic hair down his abdomen. He tosses the shirt aside and leans down, him now nestled between your legs and caging you with his arms on either side of your head.
"You don't know what you do to me, doll", you just hear the jingle of his necklace as he leans down, engulfed by him and his smell. The tension is intoxicating, his forehead on yours, heavy breathing. The heat radiating off of both your bodies.
"I wanted this for so long", you swallow, your tounge feels endlessly heavy. "Please..", you can only mouth that word.
His lips brush against yours, breath hitching. You need to dive deeper into him. You grab his head and let your lips crash together, both of you finally fusing into one. It's so strong, his lips taking control as he devours you with one passionate kiss. Your head spins. You've always imagined this moment yet it was never as intense as it really is.
You feel Touya's hands wander down your body, grazing your sides and gliding to your hips, where he slowly slides his fingers underneath your panties. Goosebumps follow everywhere he touches. Still mid-kiss, your panties are slid down and tossed across the room, followed by your bra. He finally breaks the kiss only to slide down your body and plant himself between you legs, eyes looking up and finding yours. The boyish grin on his face sends a shockwave through your body.
You are too dazed to react in any sort of way, glossy eyes just pleading for him to eat you out. His hungry gaze fuels the fire in your lower abdomen, causing heat to pool between your thighs. Touya dips down, carefully placing kisses and licks to your inner thighs and outer folds, diving deeper and deeper. The man has you squeaking and yelping in no-time.
You always knew he got around plenty yet it never hit you until now, his experience clearly showing as he licks every little crevice and circles your clit expertly. Your legs are shaking violently, somehow you're gonna crush his head between your thighs with your orgasm oh so close. Closer and closer until it suddenly rips through you, hands buried in his white hair as your whole body tenses up and then collapses right in front of the man that makes your world crash down. It's like a supernova exploded right inside your mind, everything goes blank. Nothing but euphoria.
You've never experienced a climax that overwhelming before, you can't stop shaking while tears roll down your eyes.
"Shhh, woah, it's ok, it's ok" Touya's voice calms you as he brushes your tears away with his thumb.
"Are you alright? We can stop if you need a break", you slowly calm down from your high and take his hand to press a kiss against his palm.
"I'm good Tou, just...need a second" you try to supress the sniffles while you wait for your nervous system to rebuild itself again. A few seconds pass by when you finally collect yourself.
"wanna keep going", you smile softly.
"As you say, princess".
With a quick peck to the cheek and a squeeze to your thigh, Touya sits up to slide his dark sweats and boxers down. His length is impressive yet not monstrous. The nice curvy shaft and pretty pink tip make your mouth water, you didn't know a dick can be this pretty.
Your awestruck gaze makes Touya chuckle as he pumps himself a couple of times before positioning himself between your legs again.
"One last chance to stop"
You place your hand on the side of his face as he leans forward. "I want this Touya, please", and with a passionate kiss your once-best-friend slowly slides into your messy folds, stretching you out so deliciously you could've cum just from that.
After some adjusting, the both of you start to settle for a slow but balls-deep rythm, moaning into each other with hands and lips everywhere. After some shifting and re-positioning Touya eventually finds that one special spot that makes you scream his name like a damn prayer, hitting it over and over again.
You clamp down, the sensation too much when he reaches down to fondle your clit. After a few more thrusts you collapse again, this orgasm even stronger than the first one. Your eyes meet Touya's as he fucks you through your orgasm, dick twitching and gaze clouded with so many emotions at once. "Fuck, princess you squeeze...so..hard", with that he fills you up to the brim, cum shooting into your still convulsing walls. You remain like this for a couple of minutes to come down from both your earth-shattering orgasms.
Touya just collapses on top of you, still inside you but too tired to do anything about it. He hugs you tightly.
"You are..so amazing doll"
You are both still slightly out of breath as you fall into a deep sleep with you in Touya's arms. You forgot to turn off the Tv, the dim light shining on both of your intertwined bodies.
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luvindrr · 2 months
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Touya makes you breakfast in bed
touya todoroki x reader | fluff | 339 words cw: reader is called "doll"
Touya opens the door to your bedroom holding a bowl and spoon in his hands. He’s careful with his footsteps and tries not to make the door squeak- unsuccessfully- as he patters over to you in bed.
“G’morning, doll.”
You turn over in the sheets, eyes still closed but groaning in response. Touya places the bowl onto the side table and caresses your face with infinite tenderness, brushing over your cheek where an eyelash has fallen. Your eyes flutter open as he kisses your forehead, and he can’t help the stupid grin that spreads when he meets your eyes, when he realizes he’s the first thing you see in the morning.
“I made breakfast.”
Hardly- a scoop of rice with a side of eggs and vegetables. He never learned how to cook so it’s slightly charred- a fact he’s nervously aware of. He’s soothed when you take slow bites anyway and takes your approval as an invitation to snuggle into your lap, eyes closed. It’s deserved, he thinks, after all the hard work he’s put into being a good boyfriend. At your tap to his lips, he obediently opens, a ball of rice falling onto his tongue. It’s sour. What did he do to make it sour?
At your giggle, he opens his eyes and sees you holding up a slice of rolled omelette, cut and shaped into a little heart.
“My mum used to do it for me.”
And it’s so stupid, he thinks, so stupid that somehow you can make him so soft, so giggly, so willing to do stupid things like kiss you awake and talk about his mum and cut your eggs into little hearts. It’s so stupid that you can make him bend like that, but it’s stupider that it’s so easy when it’s you.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” you ask, holding up a whole, uncooked asparagus.
In signature Touya suaveness, “I can chew it up and regurgitate it for you.”
“Gross, Touya.”
“Penguins do it all the time.”
masterlist
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touyalove · 1 year
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Touya loves you.
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Touya loves you so much, and whenever he's coming back home after a long and tiering mission, all he wanna do is lay down on your bed. His head on top of your chest, and his chest resting on your puffy tummy that he just adores squeezing it. And after his long ass mission he loves listening to your heartbeat, it's like a lullaby. And you lazily playing with his hair, whispering sweet nothings in his ear. It's like honey for his soul.
Touya loves to feel his body on yours and vice versa. And he also loves the feeling of your soft hands drawing shooting circles on his scarred back and neck.
Whenever he's on a mission, he usually finds himself daydreaming about the two of you doing simple mundane things. Like cooking something, or dancing together under the sun, like two kids:) He loves you so much that his heart hurts, and his head's getting dizzy.
Touya loves to hold your hand.
Touya loves your smile.
Touya loves your scent.
Touya loves your heart.
Touya loves your soul.
Touya loves you as a whole because you're the most beautiful and special person in his entire world.
And Touya also misses you, whenever you're not by his side he misses you. Because for the first time, someone truly appreciates him for who he is, and values him. For the first time, someone cares about his wellbeing, his feelings.
You're truly special for him, and he's truly special for you.
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hii! I know this is super random:) but i hope you enjoyed it! Likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated!
Do not repost or translate!
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stxrrydreamss · 1 year
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Imagine this
You are bleeding out after getting injured during a mission, dying. Dabi is running, and as he runs by you, he turns his head and suddenly stops dead in his tracks upon realizing who he had just unknowingly run by and picks you up no matter how much pain you are in before taking off running as fast as he can to whatever hiding spot he can find while yelling out “I’ll be damned if I let you bleed to death out here, princess!”
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missmeinyourbones · 6 months
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DRANK DRY THE RIVER LETHE
"These days I think I owe my life
To flowers that were left here by my mother,
Ain't that like them, gifting life to you again?
- First Time, Hozier
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a/n: trying baby daddy touya, brief mentions of pregnancy, reader is exhausted and dealing w some parental impostor syndrome, reader and baby are referred to as touya's girls
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Touya comes home to a crying baby, something that has slowly become the new norm for him.
The fall breeze is uncomfortably chilly now that the sun has long gone down, and he can hear the familiar shrieks and hiccups before he's able to unlock and open the apartment door.
You don't hear him enter over the whines of the baby you cradle and caress in your hold. Touya's met with the back of your head and the sound of your desperate coos as he kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his jacket, making his way over to his girls. His family.
"Hey," he makes it a point to speak before letting his hand come to rest on your lower back. You'd think he'd have mastered how jumpy you are after all this time, but you flinch all the same at the sound of his voice.
He lets the warmth of his touch press up against your skin in an attempt to comfort you, but the second he's able to catch your eye, he knows it'll require a lot more than that to soothe your worries.
From your gaze alone, he can sense your panic almost immediately.
"She won't stop crying," is the first thing you say to him.
It comes out rushed and nervous, like you've been waiting for him to return home for hours. You have been, he knows to be true even though you don't say it.
He winces a bit as he takes in your appearance. You look smaller than he's ever remembered, and perhaps there's a truth to that old saying about not noticing something as it happens right before you, until it's already too late.
Your eyes are dark with exhaustion, his t-shirt swallowing you whole is covered with what he knows to be stains of vomit and spit-up. Your body doesn't stop moving, heels don't stop bouncing softly back and forth as you attempt to soothe your daughter in any way possible.
He doesn't ask how long you've been at this.
The haste returns when you continue, "She's not hungry, I've changed her three times, her temperature is normal, and I hate that I even checked her temperature more than once because she fucking hates it and--"
A calloused palm finds your head, gently brushing the tousled hair behind your ear and trying to rub the tension from behind your neck.
"Hey, hey. Easy."
He tries to console you. His tone is a bit cautious, like he's trying to slowly approach a wild and contaminated animal, but it comforts you all the same.
His heart hurts as he watches you take a shaky inhale, holding it for a brief moment before exhaling it just as uneasily. You're drained.
If this was three months ago, he'd instantly grab your wrist--force you to lay on top of him in bed until you inevitably pass out and succumb to your own exhaustion.
But things are different now, and he's not just in charge of you anymore. He has two girls to take care of, one being a lot more helpless than the other who needs him just as badly right now.
"I don't know what I'm doing wrong," you weakly admit through the tears that sit heavy in the back of your throat.
Nothing, Touya wants to say. He doesn't even think you're capable of doing something that isn't right, but he's self-aware enough to bite his tongue and focus on the task at hand.
His eyes fall to where the bundle of baby still shrieks and sobs against your arms. He slowly reaches to rub a soft finger against her puffy cheek before sighing to himself.
"Don't babies cry for no reason sometimes?" he mumbles.
"She doesn't cry like this for you."
He knows it's the fatigue behind your bite, so he chooses to ignore the harsh comparison.
"Yeah, she does, baby," he calmly breathes. "You're just tired."
Wordlessly, he motions for you to hand your daughter to him, and the pass happens naturally for all three of you. She leaves your arms and enters his without so much of a struggle. And you can't shake the failure that weighs heavy on your shoulders as you watch him gently bounce the baby on his hip, her cries almost immediately softening by being in his mere presence.
It takes all of thirty seconds before she's practically silent, resting on his chest and babbling herself into a calm drowsiness. His hand cradles the back of her head gently, mimicking how it did yours mere moments ago.
The scene before you is all you've ever wanted, and it's finally yours. And you absolutely hate that you feel a sob of exhaustion wrack through your chest, ruining a moment you never thought you'd have.
Touya watches you shrink before him, your eyes on the peaceful scene before you as you choke out a teary, "She hates me."
"Bullshit, c'mere."
He readjusts your baby so she's comfortably supported with one arm, using the other to snake around your shoulders and pull you in with them. You feel his hand flat against your sore back, rubbing gentle circles and pressing you into his warmth.
The three of you stand huddled together, all clinging onto one another in one way or the other. The baby in Touya's hold rests her sock-covered foot on the flat of your arm. You lean into Touya's chest, head right next to your daughter's as he whispers sweet reassurances. You don't need to ask to know they're meant for the both of you.
After a few minutes, Touya pulls away a bit, but only to use both hands to place the baby back in her crib. The transition is easy and she's out cold as she sinks into the tiny mattress pad and sprawls out.
The two of you lean on one another, hovering over the wood to watch her sleep. Her eyelids flicker with movement, her chubby fingers squeezing around nothing every now and then.
Eventually, Touya tiredly whispers into your hair, “I learned all this from you, y'know."
Sniffling with heavy eyes and a confused pout, you weakly turn your head up to look at him in confusion.
Assuming he's talking about parenthood, his words don't make any sense in your fatigued and spiraling mind.
You learned together. He was there in the hospital when the midwives walked you through swaddling and latching and burping. When you'd discovered that your daughter preferred to eat after napping because nursing before made her sick. Watching online tutorials on which bassinet is safest for newborns---Touya was there, for all of it. He didn't learn anything about this from you.
But when he looks down into your watery eyes, through the dark of the nursery and against the shallow breaths of your sleeping daughter, you realize he's not talking about that.
His voice is a mere whisper when he confesses, “Like, how to love her right.”
Sniffling and swollen, you open your mouth to protest, but no words come out. Utterly speechless, you just stare at him a bit dumbly.
Touya fights off a smirk at your uncharacteristic silence, directing his attention back to the sleeping baby once more.
"Wouldn't know how to do this if it wasn't for you, letting me learn how to love you," he admits.
He reaches down into the crib to where she sleeps on her back, arms spread out and upward like she's stretching her tiny limbs. He takes the tips off his fingers and gently rubs her onesie-covered tummy.
“So, when she feels it from me," he whispers, not taking his eyes off of the annoyingly perfect baby before him, "it’s really just an extension of you.”
A moment of silence passes. In the heaviness of the moment, he almost thinks you didn't hear him. But he's proven wrong--something he's learned is often the case with you--when he turns his head to where you wait. Touya sees your eyes and cheeks glistening with newly shed tears, no longer the dried ones from your weariness and anxiety, gleaming up back at him.
He can't help but shake his head and laugh at the soft sight before him, withdrawing his hand from the baby's tummy and wrapping it around your shoulder.
He ushers your head into his chest, muttering a loving, “Alright crybaby, c'mon.”
He lets you sniffle and close your eyes against the cheap cotton of his shirt, letting his own eyes shut and resting his chin atop your head.
Slowly, but all the same, you feel that gentle sting of guilt eventually fade from your lungs with each gentle exhale. With heavy eyes and bad posture, you ground yourself through the senses around you. Touya's skin against yours, the sounds of gentle sighs and sniffles. The baby, the one that you had together, safe in her crib with the sole responsibility of innocently existing.
You don't want to ever forget this, or maybe you do. Half of you wishes you could forget it, just to receive the blessing of experiencing it for the first time all over again.
“Also use my quirk sometimes,” you think you hear muffled into the crown of your skull.
You open your puffy eyes to look up at him, confused.
"What?"
You watch Touya smugly shrug as he brushes the stray and sticky hairs from your clammy forehead. A sly blush creeps up his neck and jaw when he fights off a smile.
"Warm my hand up and put it on her stomach," he admits casually, caressing your soggy cheek, "shuts her right up."
You laugh, wet and pathetic and absolutely enamored by him, "That's cheating, you asshole."
You don't blame her, you think, considering the countless times you've requested the same thing from him. From period cramps to pregnancy pain to just wanting to feel him--maybe it's genetic, having your DNA and craving his warmth simultaneously.
You decide that Touya must be thinking the same thing, because he simply chuckles with you, rubbing your back as you feel the familiar heat of his fingers begin to tingle.
"Yeah, yeah," he kisses your head, "wonder where she learned that from."
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touyasdoll · 1 year
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Dadmas Day 3: Christmas Morning with Touya
Dadmas Masterlist
pairing: Touya Todoroki/Dabi x f!reader
word count: 2.2k
warnings: you have multiple children together, mentions of pregnancy & children, reader is wearing a nightgown, his dick is pierced, biting, your kids are cockblocks but they’re cute
notes: this was originally going to be a Father’s Day post and this is the whole reason I wanted to do Dadmas! I just really, really, really love the idea of Touya as a dad <3 he deserves more mornings like this.
Merry Christmas! <3
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It’s Christmas morning. The chill from outdoors has crept inside overnight, but it’s the feeling of mismatched lips brushing against your neck that stirs you from your slumber.
It’s not a bad way to wake up; it’s one of your favorites, actually. One smooth. One scarred. Both coming together over your pulse point to send a shiver up your spine and pull a moan from your own mouth.
“Touya..” you murmur drowsily, giggling as his lips climb up your neck to trail along your jaw.
“Doll..” he echoes your nickname in the same timbre, playfully mocking you, as he often did.
You can feel the his smile against your skin when he briefly nuzzles his face against yours. It’s then that you realize that his hands are also wandering, slipping beneath the sheets to skim along your sides.
“I can almost guarantee you that we do not have time for this today,” you say as you lock eyes with him.
He leans over you, propped up on one arm to stare back into your eyes with a devil-may-care grin.
“Maybe a Christmas miracle’ll happen.” He shrugs, leaning in again to attach his lips to your neck.
“Oh, you believe in miracles all of sudden?” You ask sarcastically as your eyes fall closed again.
A soft sigh leaves your lungs as you gently stretch and relax into the sheets, tilting your head to allow him better access to your neck.
Maybe a Christmas miracle would happen. You cross your fingers.
“Believe in ‘em?” He scoffs, warm breath blowing over your neck. “I’ve seen one firsthand. How the hell else could I have landed you?”
He smirks and sinks his teeth into your skin, feeling rather proud of himself for that one, because he can practically hear you rolling your eyes when you echo his scoff.
“Must be all the smooth one liners,” you tease, letting your hands roam to seek out the only present that you’re really hoping for today.
You find it without much trouble. His morning wood is just inches from your thigh. You slowly drag your fingers along his shift before wrapping your hand around the barely contained erection, concealed only by his boxers.
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, sighing as he readjusts to swivel his hips towards you.
He starts bucking them gently, shifting upwards into your grasp while he starts sucking on your neck again to stifle the desperate moans threatening to spill from his lips.
“Shit,” you moan, eyes briefly rolling back when his tongue finds that special spot on your neck. “Baby, do you really think we might have enough time?”
“We can make it quick,” he mutters impatiently, tossing back the sheets in a hurry as he moves to position himself between your legs.
The both of you are veterans when it comes to quickies. You thought you were good at ‘em before you had kids, but now? It’s an art form that you have perfected.
You reach down to haphazardly bunch up the hem of your nightgown and pull your panties to the side while he tugs his boxers down far enough to let his pierced erection spring free.
“Remind me to eat you out later,” he murmurs, eyes flitting to yours as he dons a grin that makes your pussy throb even before he guides the head of his cock between your folds.
“Maybe I’ll just sit on your face,” you muse, eyes fluttering closed and a soft moan escaping you when he shifts his hips.
“Merry Christmas to me. I hope you do,” he replies huskily, smirking as he sheathes his length inside of you in one smooth thrust.
Both of you take a brief moment to savor the feeling, intentionally quiet noises of pleasure flooding the room. You lift your hips, grinding them forward while his begin to roll. He’s just about to pick up the tempo when the sound of little feet start pattering down the hall.
“Babe,” you whisper, pressing your hands to his chest as your head whips towards the door.
“I hear ‘em. Just know this means I’m pounding the fuck out of you later,” he murmurs as he leans in to steal a kiss, a handsome smirk lingering on his lips when he pulls away to fall back into bed beside you.
He tucks his suddenly softening cock back into his boxers and you adjust your clothes while he grabs the covers and tugs them over the both of you.
“Ssh!” You hear your five year old’s voice in the hall.
She’s giggling despite her warning to keep quiet and so is your 3 year old son as the sound of their footsteps grow closer to your door.
You and Touya employ your acting skills, pretending to be fast asleep just before the door slowly creaks open.
“I told you they’re still sleeping,” your daughter whispers as she crosses into the room, creeping closer to the bed with her brother right on her heels.
“Let’s get daddy!” Your son suggests in the loudest whisper you’ve ever heard.
You peek one eye open to look at your husband, who can’t seem to help the warm smile that graces his features. You close your eyes again and wait, though it doesn’t take long for your children to make their move.
“Daddy!” Your daughter cheers as she launches herself onto his side of the bed.
“It’s Christmas!” Your son exclaims as he joins her, pouncing directly onto his father’s chest.
“Oof!” He grunts, a huge grin spreading across his face as he let’s our a jolly chuckle that could rival even old St. Nick’s. “It’s Christmas? So what? What’s that mean?”
He sits up to wind an arm around both of them, his tickling fingers getting to work immediately, sending both children into laughing fits as they try to squirm out of his grasp.
“Santa!” Your son squeals, scrambling towards your side of the bed as you sit up, smiling fondly at the scene in front of you.
“Yeah! Santa came, daddy!” Your daughter manages to inform him through her giggles while trying in vain to protect her ticklish sides.
“Good morning!” Your son greets you, tilting his head back when he plops down into your lap as your arms wind around him.
“Good morning, mommy!” Your daughter echoes his greeting as Touya finally takes mercy on her.
“Good morning,” you reply, beaming as you press a kiss to the top of your son’s forehead and then lean over to do the same to your daughter. “So you guys already saw the tree? Santa came and left us all presents?”
“Yeah! I saw my name! And brother’s and sister’s and yours and daddy’s too!” Your daughter excitedly informs you, practically bouncing on the bed, which seems to give her an idea, because she rises to her feet. “Let’s open presents!”
Her brother joins her, climbing out of your lap to stand up as the two of them start jumping up and down in the space between you while chanting for presents. Touya chuckles and glances over at you to exchange smiles before he stands and loops his arms around the kids again.
“Alright, alright, we’ll do presents,” he says as he tucks one beneath each arm and starts carrying them off, making them squirm and giggle. “We gotta get your sister first though. Why don’t you two go find one with your names on ‘em and mommy and I will be right there?”
He sets them down near the bedroom door and they cheer before they take off. You rise from the bed, watching him as he watches your children go. There’s a smile on his face, but he looks a little lost in thought. He doesn’t seem to notice you approach until your hand reaches out to take his and he snaps out of it.
“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” You ask quietly as you slip your arms around his middle.
He folds his arms around you in return, peeking at you for only a moment before he looks down, a little embarrassed by the sheer amount of emotions that he’s feeling.
“How lucky I am. Thank you, doll. For everything,” he whispers, placing a kiss to your scalp as he gives you a long squeeze.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” you say softly, closing your eyes as you hug him back tightly.
He closes his eyes, holding you a little tighter while he sends off a prayer to any and every deity that he’s ever heard of. He never wanted to lose this. He’d lost a family once and he’d survived, but he wouldn’t make it through losing this one.
He feels a slight pressure just beneath his eyes and he knows what’s coming. Usually he tries to fight it, but he knows it’s hopeless this morning.
“Merry Christmas, doll,” he replies as a crimson tear slips over his cheek from under his stapled seam.
The baby starts fussing down the hall and you pull away, only to stop when you realize that she isn’t the only one who’s crying. You reach up to cup his face, delicately swiping the tear away with the pad of your thumb before your gaze finds his.
“Are you okay, baby?”
He nods, a tender smile on his lips as he cradles your head in both hands and plants a kiss to you forehead.
“I’ve never been happier,” he says sincerely. “I’ll go get her. You wrangle the other gremlins.”
With a gentle swat to your behind, he heads down the hall and you turn to look at him over your shoulder. A smile spreads across your face as you watch him swing open the door to the nursery and beam at your other daughter, who can be heard giggling inside, amused by the funny face he makes as he enters the room.
You shake your head, still grinning like a fool as you make your way towards the living room, where your eldest is doing her best with her newfound reading skills to sort out the gifts.
“Lemme help you, sweetheart,” you say as you pick up one of the wrapped presents from beneath the tree.
A few minutes later, Touya arrives with your 18 month old on his hip. She stares in wonder at the presents and start kicking her tiny legs while pressing on his arms.
“Down,” she requests in the most adorable, excited little voice.
“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles, finding a place on the floor to plop down, so that he can set her free and keep a close eye on her.
He keeps an eye on all of you, basking in the wonder of a Christmas morning that he never thought he’d live to see, let alone celebrate with his own family.
He watches the children dance around while impatiently waiting to tear into their piles of presents. He watches you take you youngest daughter into your lap and help her tear away the wrapping paper on one of her gifts, which she finds more interesting than the gift itself. He watches you crawl over and reach way under the tree to retrieve a small, rectangular gift.
“This one’s yours,” you say as you sit down beside him and offer him the package. “Feel like it’s important to note that this one’s from me and not Santa.”
He furrows his brow, smiling curiously as he glances over at you before he turns his attention to the gift in his hands. He tears the paper away and finds a box, which he lifts the top of of to reveal a familiar looking white stick inside.
Pregnant is what it says.
You watch his face and are blessed enough to see the moment of realization on his face. His eyes go wide and he suddenly grins so wide that you’re worried he might lose a staple.
“I’m gonna be a dad again?” He asks excitedly, sounding the teeniest bit choked up, though he’d never confess to that.
“Yes,” you confirm, nodding your head as you mirror his elated expression.
He chuckles in disbelief and throws his arms around you, pulling you in to hug you tight and press his lips to your scalp again.
“I love you so much,” he murmurs, pulling away to cup your face in his hand and kiss you like he means it, because he does. He’s never meant anything more.
Before you can respond, he pulls away and looks down at your belly, placing his hand over it gently.
“And I love this one already,” he adds softly.
Tears of joy threaten to spill from your own eyes now as you place your hand over his.
“We love you too. We’re just as lucky to have you, baby. All of us,” you say quietly.
He leans in to press his smiling lips to yours again, his head already filling with what next year might look like. The sounds of the children squealing and screaming fade away as he presses his forehead to yours to look into your eyes.
“Merry Christmas, doll. Thank you.”
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shadowspromise · 1 year
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Dabi vs Touya.
Dabi is the villain who burns his victims to ash.
Touya is the boy who cuddles up beside you every night.
Dabi will laugh at people when they fall.
Touya will pick you up and kiss your scraped knee.
Dabi says “suck it up” when someone’s sick.
Touya offers to spoonfeed you and wipe your nose.
Dabi will claim people mean nothing to him.
Touya will whine and plead for you to stay when you need to leave for a few hours.
Dabi and Touya are the same person, two sides of the same coin.
Touya will never treat you like he’s Dabi.
Dabi leaves you to Touya.
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harleys1nhawaii · 7 months
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MAYBE
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pairing: dabi/todoroki touya x gn!reader
warnings: mentions of sex, smoking, etc.
wc: 2k+
a/n: its crazy that how many thoughts of him there are in my head yet i can't fucking write anything. there isn't 1 damn day i dont think about him and this should be a mfkng crime. i am SICK AND TIRED i love him more than anything. anyway, enjoy<3
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dabi knows somethings wrong. he can't really point out what it is or name the pain, but he knows he's doing something wrong.
or maybe, he's pretending. he is a cruel villain that'd take hundreds' life in a heartbeat with no remorse, set the buildings ablaze with no sign of guilt. he was a bad person who did bad shit, that's for sure. that was who and what he was. he had to be real heartless to have done all of that, hadn't he? he had to be some kind of sociopath who lost the ability to feel ages ago.
then why he felt this way? like he was hurting.
he hated that.
he hated having that agonizingly stinging pain in middle of his chest. like he had been stabbed a thousand times yet still couldn't die. almost as if he couldn't even bring his feet to move to walk. as if he would rather do all the stupid bullshit than feel it.
he was afraid because no matter how he pretended like he didn't care, maybe he really did. he was scared to death for the first time in forever because he knew something was terribly wrong but he didn't know what it was. he was scared because now he was feeling his feelings after claiming himself to be no longer able to do that, and he wasn't used to it in any way. he had no idea how to deal with it.
or maybe, dabi was scared.
dabi was scared to lose you. he wished he didn't feel that. the guilt. the guilt of all the times he had treated you like you were nothing but just a sex partner to him. all the times he acted like he didn't care. all the times he pushed any slight of intimacy away and ignored all his feelings. and all of those times he gave everything in himself to not care about how you felt, about you.
he sighed deeply and closed his eyes shut. where did all of these took him to? other than hurting you, hurting himself. he couldn't bare the idea that he loved. what the fuck did that mean? he had a will to reach, a long path to walk through. he couldn't waste his dear time on pointless romance shit and none of the troubles it brought with itself.
he needed to be sane, as if he hadn't lost it ages ago. but he needed that. he needed his mind. with no one other in it to keep him in the same spot of life for god knows how long.
dabi was angry. no, he was fucking furious.
how could he drop his guard like that? how could he let you get into his heart? you two had promised to be nothing but just sex partners, with no fucking strings attached. this was what it should've been. 2 people that had nothing to do with each other's business and life other than satisfying each other when needed.
then why he wanted more? why couldn't he bare the feeling of guilt everytime he left you all alone? this should've been what was right. he had a life to live, places to be and shits to do. he couldn't be with you all day. and why would he anyway? at the end, he was the careless one. the reckless, the nonchalant vile villain bastard.
he had to be. he knew that if he allowed himself to feel, he couldn't turn back.
then why? why why why why? he wanted to smash his head against the rock he was leaning on. what the fuck was wrong with this? what the fuck was wrong with him? why couldn't he stop thinking about you? why did he want to hug you, why did he want to kiss you so damn bad?
his hands trembled, almost making him drop the cigarette he was holding between his fingers. his jaw clenched in sync with his left hand, making it go into a fist. silent curses came out under his breath, once again, eyes closed shut.
maybe, dabi loved.
dabi loved the way you made him feel. like he was still breathing even while he was holding his breath. like he had a reason to keep going and fight with the heroes harder, knowing he had a place to be after all this distress ended. like he had a reason to wake up and get done his grueling businesses, repeating himself continuously that maybe you two will meet that night.
like he was living.
dabi hated that to the bone. but oh, dabi loved that more than anything. he had tasted how it felt to be alive and now he knew he wanted more. he needed more.
dabi stood up as he threw the almost burnt out cigarette away. this time, he didn't stumble as he walked, nor did he feel his legs giving up on him. this time, he knew where he was going and his chest didn't fill up with the same old worry and pain.
because this time, he knew he needed you with him and he wasn't afraid of it. he needed to be there for you and hold you in his arms like he always wanted to but could never had the boldness in himself to attempt to. he needed to kiss the wounds of yours that he caused to appear and patch them up to never reopen them again.
dabi walked faster, ignored the sounds of honking horns rising from the cars he walked past by, ignored the world.
dabi needed to reach you.
dabi needed you.
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tired-teacher-blog · 8 months
Text
Crumbling fortress
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Characters : Dabi/ Fem reader
Warnings and Genre : NSFW/ 18+/ Sexual Intercourse/ Chocking/ Creampie/ Fluff/ Angst/ One Shot
Notes : This was supposed to be a silly little filthy drabble but I donno what happened, why did I turn it into a soft passionate long ass piece? No idea tbh.. so enjoy!
Masterlist|Second Masterlist
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_ "You are my hero, Touya." you smile languidly as you utter, a sense of tranquility is spreading through your veins and a pleasant warmth is replacing the carnal desire of earlier.
Touya.. hero..
He hates that, hates the words leaving your mouth as soon as they do, why must you ruin these rare moments of peace with your unwanted weird kind of fluttery? Why must you remind him of the person he once wished to become but never succeeded? Were you perhaps mocking him?
_ "Quiet now, I don't need to hear this." stern and frustrated as his steely voice reaches you, lips smashing against your abused ones as if to silence you, and they do, fogging up your brain and melting you under his rough touches.
Your warm coated walls tense up around the awakening stiffness still grazing your insides while stifled whimpers mix with the wet sounds of your lips molding sloppily together.
Your nails pierce the patchy skin of his neck and shoulder, adding more marks to the already existing ones you shaped there moments ago, your strained legs wrap loosely around his skinny waist as your overstimulated core prepares for another round.
_ "Fuck.. you're already squeezing me so tight." he mumbles into the kiss, tugging on your lower lip playfully before rolling his hips once.
_ "Wait, give me a second, please." your whines only trigger his lasciviousness further, coaxing him to thrust into your sopping heat again.
_ "Touya.. Touya please, not so hard." there you go again, calling him by the name he has long since abandoned.
Touya..
Maybe it was foolish of him to reveal his ultimate secret to you when he did in one of his rare moments of vulnerability, maybe it would have been better if you learned about it like everyone else had, maybe then you would have stopped viewing yourself as someone special to him.
_ "Stop using that name." he sits up quickly and unsteadily, drawing yet another mewl out of you as his hips shift against your own.
Your eyes well up as they gaze into his gleaming turquoise irises, his fingers caress your sides and move up slowly to squeeze your perky breasts in a teasing manner, before one of his hands grasps onto your neck threateningly, because if you're not going to stop using that infernal name, then maybe he should force you.
_ "T.. Touy.." you gasp the word once more, stopping yourself when it finally hits you that you've done it again, you've upset him.
You are not stupid, you know full well the strain that name puts on him, the pain he endured while carrying it around and while tossing it away, you had the chance to see him -the real him- as he disclosed his truth to you, and now you're nothing but a reminder of it all.
You are stupid, pushing your way into his life in the worst of manners and wishing he would appreciate it but he doesn't, "I'm sorry, Touy.. Dabi."
You cradle the hand pressing lightly on your neck, caressing the tense fingers with your shaky ones before repeating more confidently, "I'm sorry Dabi."
You're not afraid of his tightening grasp, you realize you deserve it for spewing nonsense so carelessly, though it was your only way of showing him that you're here, that he doesn't have to be alone anymore, that he truly is a hero in your eye, but it was the last thing he needed to hear.
Hero..
So yeah, you are stupid.
_ "I'm all yours, Dabi, so do whatever you want to me." and you mean it, your trust in him is unshakable, always has been.
_ "Alright angel, brace yourself because I won't go easy on you this time." and there it is, that seductive smirk you so much adore.
A strangled squeal pushes its way out of your throat as he starts thrusting mercilessly into your heat, setting an unforgiving pace from the get go.
Your eyes roll back as a tingling sensation spreads throughout your body, and a chuckle leaves his lips when you desperately claw at his forearm.
_ "Listen to this babe, you're so wet for me it's driving me nuts." he hisses fervently, nodding towards the obscene sloshing noises and sticky mess connecting you, his remark gains him another smothered whine and a trembling squeeze on his pulsating cock as a deep blush heats up your cheeks.
You're too far gone, lost in an overwhelming pleasure and a tinge of pain that twists your guts and pushes you closer to a second orgasm.
He is as well, his irratic movements and blazing eyes, his clenched jaw and shallow breathing, his taut grip around your neck and grunts of your name moving past his parted lips, are a testament to a built up delight that's about to crumble.
Your mind travels back briefly to the moment you had laid eyes on him for the very first time some years ago, his peculiar looks and quirky personality mesmerized you from the beginning, and although you only knew him as Dabi like everyone else did at the time, you were still certain this man was so much more than his formidable power, and you were right.
Touya..
You were stubborn as you clawed your path inside his head, and no matter how many times he had pushed you away, you still found a reason to stick to him even though you knew he would never open up his heart to you.
But you were wrong.
Touya..
Your tears betray you when you finally snap out of the distant memories, rolling down your face and onto the pillow beneath your head. You wish to call out his name again but you know you shouldn't, settling for reaching out a trembling hand and caressing his stapled cheek as a longing smile appears upon your features.
Your mind is fuzzy and your body is tingling, wether it is due to your approaching orgasm or to the long fingers squeezing your neck tighter with each second, you don't know, and frankly you don't even care.
_ "Are you alright angel? Is this too much?" his stern glare suddenly turns into a gentle one, and his animalistic plunges slow to an almost halt.
You wonder what he's doing when you finally heave an uninterrupted breath, watching through tear filled eyes as the harsh fingers around your neck come up to cradle your cheek.
You don't need to call his real name to know that you've breached his facade, because moments like this are proof enough.
_ "I'm okay Dabi, I'm just.. I'm so happy." you truly are.
He seems to relax a bit hearing your words, chuckling softly and leaning in to kiss your lips again, tenderly this time, while his hips start moving a little faster as he picks up the pace.
He swallows your whimpers and deepens the kiss, his tongue darting out to taste your warm cavern before licking a perfect stripe leading to your bruised neck where he pecks the finger shaped marks gently.
He tried so hard -he truly did- to keep your relationship purely physical, to keep you at arm's length and make it easier to walk away whenever, but he kept falling deeper and deeper for you without even realizing how it happened. It freaked him out and still does, and it has become harder to deny and pretend that he can still let you go.
_ "Dabi, I'm close, so close." you thread your fingers through his luscious locks as the feeling of his lips against your skin and the veiny shaft stroking your insides, send a shiver up your spine.
_ "Me too babe, fuck! I can't hold it in much longer." the mumbled groans between his kisses are heavenly, and the deep thrusts of his cock are coaxing your orgasm.
You cry out unintelligibly when he bites down on your flesh, your back archs off the bed at the sudden sharp feeling of his teeth, while you give in to an uncontrollabe spasm that accompanies your release.
His hips pound into your quivering cunt erratically, and his teeth sink deeper into your sensitive skin while he prepares to fill you up once more. His arms squeeze you tightly between them as if you would disappear if he doesn't, groaning shakily as ropes of pearly seeds erupt from his raging tip to coat your slippery walls.
His thrusts slow down as his twitching hips move shallowly against your own until they finally stop, he releases your abused flesh from between his teeth and collapses on top of your spent body, head is fuzzy and eyes already barely open after your eventful night, if not for your next words that jerk him awake.
_ "Touya, or Dabi, I don't care what you want me to call you, because I love you no matter who you are, and this is something that will never change."
Silence, suffocating silence, but it doesn't matter, you aren't expecting anything in return anyway, you are content just being near him and you would never dare wish for more.
You close your eyes and drift off to sleep as a satisfied smile makes its way to you, though you regretfully miss his confession.
_ "I love you too, I swear I do, and I will not fight it anymore." the words are strange to him, but he is determined to get used to them as he holds you securely to his chest with the promise of repeating them again and again, until they finally sink into his brain and yours.
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