#Dabi fic

[doumadono]

Babyyyyy! Congratulations 💙🧡💙🧡 I am so happy to see you thrive 💗

Can I get some mint and raspberry ice-creams served in a cone, with some maple syrup on top? 😚 (pro hero au with pro hero Dabi)

Warnings: smut w/o plot, fem!reader, pussy fingering/eating, p in v, dom!Dabi

A/N: thank you very much for your support, sweetheart! I hope you enjoy these headcanons ♥

5k FOLLOWERS EVENT MASTERLIST • MY HERO ACADEMIA Pro hero Dabi - headcanons • PRO HERO DABI & INTERN!BAKUGO

Dabi, the renowned pro hero, returns home after a day of saving lives and battling villains. His muscles are tense, his spirit is high, and his desire is burning like the blue flames that dance at his fingertips as he get inside his spacious apartment. His eyes are dark and tired at first, but there's a spark that ignites as soon as he looks at you, his lips curling upwards in a wry grin.

You've been waiting for him for hours, eager to provide some much-needed relief. You missed your boyfriend oh so much.

Dabi's strong hands grip your waist, pulling you close. He leans in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

You can taste the smoky remnants of his quirk on his tongue as it dances with yours. Your hands reaching up to grip his broad shoulders. You break the kiss, panting. "Touya," you breathe, your cheeks flushed.

"Yes, darling?" Dabi's fingers trace the hem of your shirt. He smirks, knowing how much you love it when he takes control. He tugs the fabric up and over your head, exposing your lacy bra. Dabi's gaze lingers on your body, and you feel a thrill run through you.

You rub your thighs together to ease the tension and wetness building within your pussy. "I-I want you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing with desire as you ran the tip of your tongue over your upper lips to moisture it.

He palms your breasts, teasing your nipples through the lace. "Oh, I know you do," he says, his voice dripping with confidence.

You gasp again, arching into his touch. "Touya…"

Dabi's mouth finds your neck once more, leaving a trail of hot kisses that make you tremble. He continues his exploration, slowly unhooking your bra and letting it fall to the floor. Touya's fingers pinch and roll your nipples, eliciting a moan from your lips. His other hand travels down your body, reaching the waistband of your pants. He deftly unbuttons them and pulls them off, leaving you in nothing but your lace panties. Dabi's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you. He hooks his fingers into your panties, leans forward and kisses you roughly, pushing his tongue in your mouth as he tugs the panties down, letting them pool at your feet.

You step out of them, feeling vulnerable.

Dabi's hands explore your body, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touch. One of them slips between your thighs and he growls lowly. "Fuck, doll, you're dripping," he claims, bringing his hand up to his lips, licking his index and middle fingers off your juices. He lifts you up effortlessly, like you weighted nothing, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carries you to the bedroom. He lays her down on the bed, his eyes raking over your body hungrily. He removes his own clothes, revealing his muscular form.

Touya positions himself between your legs, his fingers tracing the wetness between your thighs. He teases your entrance, making you squirm with anticipation. He takes his time, enjoying the power he holds over you in this moment, kissing all over your tummy and gradually coming down. Finally, Touya's mouth descends upon your aching core. His tongue flicks and teases your clit, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you. He doesn't shy away from sucking your lips into his mouth.

You cry out, gripping his snow-white, spiky hair as he brings you closer and closer to the edge. "O-Oh! Touya!"

Just as you're about to reach your peak, Dabi pulls away, leaving you gasping for more. He smirks, knowing the torture is part of the fun. He slowly pushes one finger inside, then another, stretching you in preparation for what's to come while his tongue flicks your clitoris.

You moan and arch your back, the sensation of his fingers combined with the anticipation driving you wild. "Oh, God!" You whine, rolling your head back to the pillow. "Fuck me already, tiger, I can't wait any longer," you beg, your eyes glistening with tears. "I don't want to come yet, please!"

He likes to take his time to play with you. He loves seeing you whining so pathetically, practically begging for his cock to be stuffed in your little cunt. When Dabi deems you ready, he positions himself above you, his turquoise eyes locked on yours. He smirks, his hand reaching down to grip his cock. He guides it to your entrance, rubbing it against your wet pussy. "Fuck, you're so wet," he groans, his hips thrusting forward. With one powerful thrust, he enters you, filling you completely.

You cry out, the feeling of him inside you overwhelming.

Dabi begins to move, his strokes deep and steady. Each thrust sends shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and you cling to him, desperate for more.

"More, more more…" you plead desperately.

Dabi's hand finds your clit, rubbing small circles as he continues to pound into you. "You like that, don't you?" he growls, his hips thrusting harder.

The combination of sensations is too much, and you find yourself teetering on the edge of release. "Yes, yes, yes," you chant, your body moving in sync with his.

"Come for me then," Dabi growls, his voice low and commanding. A frown crosses his forhead as his cock throbs painfully, so ready to spill his seed deep within you. Soon, his own release is triggered by the feel of you tightening around him rhythmically.

With a final thrust of his, you shatter, crying out his name as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you; your pussy clenches around his cock making it impossible for him to pull out.

Finally, Touya collapses onto the bed, his body spent.

You curl up against him, your body still trembling. "Welcome back home, handsome," you whisper, your eyes fluttering closed.

He smiles, his arm wrapping around you, slowly rubbing the curve of your waist. "Thanks for such a warm welcome."

#pro hero dabi #dabi smut #dabi #dabi x reader smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki smut #dabi x you #anime smut #bnha smut #dabi fic #mha dabi #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #dabi headcanons #touya todoroki x you #dabi fanfic #mha smut #divider by cafekitsune #smutty fanfiction

[harleys1nhawaii]

TEASE [dabi / todoroki touya x fem!reader]

he's close, you easily can tell.

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

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

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

#ao3 dabi #bnha dabi #dabi headcanons #dabi imagine #bnha touya #dabi angst #dabi bnha #dabi drabble #dabi fic #dabi smut #yandere dabi #dabi x reader #dabi todoroki #mha dabi #dabi mha #dabi is touya #dabi fluff #dabi x female reader #touya headcanons #mha touya #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya smut #touya #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader smut #dabi x reader headcanons #dabi x you #dabi soft #dabi

[missmeinyourbones]

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 

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.”

#touya x reader #touya todoroki x reader #dabi x reader #touya fic #touya todoroki fic #dabi fic #touya fluff #touya todoroki fluff #dabi fluff #bnha x reader

[emotionalmessss]

Revenge

A/N: first time writing a Dabi x reader one-shot. I just couldn't help myself with this one, lol. No spoilers. Non-canon plot (ish).

Synopsis: after an incident at Endeavour's Agency, you attract the attention of a certain Villain.

Warnings: heavy non-con, humiliation, slight violence, slight blood, forced, angst, dabi is mean, yandere (kinda?), heat play, spit, choking. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK.

Word count: 8.1K

You flipped through the pages of your magazine whilst you sat slumped, and cuddled into the couch in your living room apartment. Scanning over the newest headlines and styles of hero costumes while your mind floated, absentmindedly gazing off out the windows every now and then. Fuck, they really publish just about anything, don’t they? You pondered, flipping over to the next page. 

‘Mt Lady Takes Down Villain! Hottest and Best Angles!’  

You huffed, slamming the magazine back down onto the coffee table. The people who wrote these articles were seriously fried in the head. Despite all of the good that Heroes did, there was always someone in the background; waiting patiently to exploit and publish the most taboo garbage. Your cheek rested against your palm as you rested against the arm of the couch, thinking back to the incident that led up to your very own interview. It wasn’t unheard of for rookie Heroes to have interviews, but it was a rare occurrence. And you remember it all too well. 

You sat, awkwardly perched on the plastic chair as the woman in front of you placed a recorder down, pulled out a pen and notepad, and began hammering you with questions. 

“What’s it like working as a Rookie alongside the Number One Hero?”

“Was this the costume you were wearing when the incident occurred?”

“Were you scared?” 

“Why are you working with Endeavor when your Quirk has nothing to do with flames?” 

All of the questions overwhelmed you, and you thought that you would be prepared since Endeavor briefed you prior to the interview. But as soon as the questions came pouring out of the red lipstick lined lips of the reporter - you froze. You tried to answer all of her questions as honestly as you could, but feared that she would turn and spin them on you. It was a habit of reporters to do so, and you refused to be on the next cover of some sleazy tabloid; ‘(Hero name)! Dirty secrets that saved her from the attack on Endeavor’s Agency!’ 

The thought made you gag. 

It was true, your Quirk had nothing to do with fire or anything of the sort, but Enji Todoroki had been a family friend for years, and you were childhood best friends with his daughter, Fuyumi Todoroki. Your Quirk was basic - Telekinesis. It was handy, and you were getting stronger with it everyday. It was useful in the battlefield, proving to be one of the strongest when you attended UA. 

“Did you see Shigaraki?”

“How hot were Dabi’s flames?”

When she asked you about Dabi and Shigaraki, you froze, immediately remembering what the heat of his flames felt like, and the gnawing fear of being turned to dust at any given moment. It was horrible, and you wanted nothing more than to jump off the chair and run out of the room. You knew that would solve nothing and only fidgeted slightly at her question and narrowing eyes. 

You were seated at your desk, filing paperwork from a Villian that you had caught a few days prior. Everyone spoke about the joys of being a Hero, but often neglected the tedious amount of paperwork that followed suit. Hours had passed and you were still working silently at your desk space. You hadn’t even taken your lunch break in hopes of finishing the work before Endeavor returned. 

Your fingers were starting to sting in exhaustion when you heard the first scream, it was loud and shrill; a woman. Your eyes widened and before you knew it, everyone was standing and running.  Flames of blue erupted up the walls as you watched everyone flee from the heat. You pushed yourself up from your desk and flushed, blocking your face with your free hand. Endeavor was sent out on a mission a few hours prior, meaning that he would be gone for the rest of the day. Most of the other sidekicks were with him, and you would’ve gone too if you weren’t stuck with this mountain of paperwork.  

You remember seeing your coworkers shove and scatter their way out of the building, rushing around like frightened mice. It was sad, you thought. You wanted to act, to fight, but fear kept you frozen in place as everyone disappeared. The smoke and heat of the room made it barely breathable, but you shielded your eyes from the smoke and covered your mouth with your sleeve.

The panicked footsteps soon dwindled down, everyone already fleeing down the stairs. And there you stood, frozen in place like a rock. Thinking back on it makes you feel completely useless, but fear makes you react in such strange ways. 

A large chunk of ceiling fell directly in front of you, your feet launching you out of the way before your brain realized what happened. Dust and smoke filtered into your lungs as you narrowly dodged the debris.  

You began to stagger your way towards the exit, until you saw two shadows appear in the doorway. Fuck. They grew closer with each passing moment, and you threw yourself beneath a random desk, curling yourself inwards in attempts to hide yourself. Your breathing was raspy due to all the smoke inhalation, but remained silent as the footsteps echoed.

“That fucker isn’t even here.” You heard a deep rasp, sounding like he was losing his voice. You flinched when you heard the desk creek above you, turning your head slowly to notice that someone was resting against it. Luckily, the cubicle shielded you from their presence, or else you’d be screwed. 

“The message will still be received.” You heard a second voice, which sounded much higher pitched than the first. “It’s only a matter of time before the Hero regimen is brought to their knees.” They snickered, high pitched and eerie. 

You covered your mouth, squeezing back a cough that rumbled in your chest. 

“The sooner the better.” The first voice spoke, which you now recognized as Dabi, the Blue Flame. His boots now eye level with you, with even one small move you would’ve been able to touch him. 

His unprovoked murderers made headlines a few weeks earlier, and you remember reading all about them. He burned his victims beyond recognition, turning them into a pile of bones and dust. It made you sick, and you could only keep quiet and remain still. You could only guess that the second voice belonged to Shigaraki, the leader of the League Of Villains. Fuck. You really were going to die here.      

“We need to get out of here before more show up.” Dabi said, pushing upright from the desk, his jacket swayed in your view. You figured that the Heroes would be pouring through the door at any second now, but you weren’t counting on it, nor were you eager to jump out from the desk. 

Shigaraki mumbled something in return that you didn’t quite catch, and you heard the heavy sounds of their booted feet fade off. You weren’t entirely jumping at the thought of getting caught, so you decided to wait a few moments before regrouping with everyone else. 

You let out a shaky breath, removing your hand from your dry lips. 

Your eyes opened once again, blinking a few times to remove any dust or smoke stuck in them.  But fuck, you really wished you hadn’t. There was a soft sound of crunching gravel that rang out beside you, instantly making your blood run cold. Your eyes darted to follow the sound and as soon as you lifted your gaze from the floor, you noticed a pair of bright blue eyes staring back into your frightened ones. You noticed that he smirked when he noticed your frightened expression, burnt lips carving upwards at your quivering form. Immediately, you let out a cry of surprise and skidded out from underneath the desk. 

“Well, well. Hello there, doll.” Dabi watched you from above. At this angle, he towered over you, watching you with gleaming eyes. Even though you were flat on your ass and resting against your palms, he was enormous. “Thought I wouldn’t notice ya’ down there?” He chuckled. 

You watched him with studying eyes, noting that he hadn’t made a move to grab or burn you. For some reason you expected to be killed on sight, but Dabi seemed to take interest in you. No . He was more interested in making you feel nervous - powerless even. His eyes running down your slim body, watching in excitement as you squirmed uncomfortably. You weren’t wearing your Hero uniform, which made him wonder why you hadn’t escaped like everyone else. 

He laughed to himself. Poor little girl, left to die by the Heroes.   

Finally, you broke eye contact from the charred man, trailing your eyes around him in search of an escape route. You didn’t know if he’d get bored soon and decide to light you up, but you certainly didn’t want to make any impulsive moves. It seems like Shigaraki left already, and you were thankful that you only had to deal with one League member. 

“Are you mute or somethin’?” His head tilted to the side as he scanned you over, his patchwork face pondering in thought. 

Dabi felt bored at your unresponsiveness, his smirk dropping and eyes glazing over. His hands fidgeted inside his pockets, debating on what he was going to do with you. You inched back slightly, noticing the shift in his demeanor. 

Your hands raised instinctively to cover your face, expecting to feel the flash of heat and the flesh peel off your bones. But you didn’t, instead feeling a rush of air around you. Out of fear, you must’ve activated your quirk without thinking too much, because Dabi was no longer standing in front of you. 

Your ears barely registered the sound of his strangled grunt as he collided with a half burnt desk. Not wasting any time pushing yourself up to your shaky feet, throwing yourself out of the cubicle and towards the exit. You didn’t even bother to look back at the scarred Villain, who was staggering back to his feet, letting out a frustrated growl at your sudden attack. You lunged for the door, throwing yourself out of it and down the flights of stairs. 

Dabi coughed as dust particles surrounded him, his breathing deepening with rage as he watched your frightened figure stumble out of the room. Your little surprise move pissed him off - almost as much as the realization he had that you were a Hero.   

Your head shook and you brushed off the incident that still lingered in your mind. While you were terrified, you managed to act quickly and get out safely. Endeavor praised you for this, which felt good, but you were just thankful that you didn’t turn into a pile of burnt flesh. 

“For fucks sake.” You mumbled as you picked up another magazine, seeing a picture of yourself covered in dust, outfit torn in questionable places, and your hair a mess -on the cover . 

‘(Hero Name)! Narrowly Escapes The Blue Flame!’ 

That wasn’t so bad… Maybe Endeavor threatened the poor woman into being nice. You thought, before your eyes roamed over the smaller print beneath the title. 

“Find out how (Hero Name) seduced her way out of death on page six!” 

You threw the magazine blindly behind you, letting out a long sigh. You should have known, these tabloids twisted the truth and made Heroes and Sidekicks look terrible. You couldn’t believe that people actually believed this shit. Luckily enough, no one was killed in the incident, but you knew that if the League wanted there to be casualties, there definitely would have been. You only escaped due to your quick thinking and Dabi’s lack of attention, which worked out in your favor.     

“Fucking bitch.” You grumbled, letting your head drop onto the armrest.   

You were so lost in thought that you barely heard the front door close shut, along with the soft footsteps of someone making their way inside. You didn’t move when you finally clued in, instead you called out blindly, voice muffled by the cushion of the couch.

“Really not in the mood tonight, Fuyumi!” Your voice cracked as you called out towards her, expecting her cheerful response at your dismissive tone, but all you heard was silence. The footsteps stopped, and instead of the soft voice of your best friend, you heard a short chuckle. 

“Not enjoying the Hero life, doll?” 

Letting out a surprised squeak, you jolted upright at the raspy voice, eyes widening and darting towards the rough sound. To say that it surprised you would be an understatement - it terrified you and made you freeze immediately, similar to how you were at the Agency. It frightened you even more when you watched his lazy eyes trail over your form, which was wearing nothing but a pair of PJ shorts and an ill-fitting tank top.  

Almost as if he could sense the urgency that flowed in your veins, telling you to run - he took a step closer to you, studying your reactions. So many questions ran through your brain, how did he get in? Why was he here? But you decided to refrain from hammering questions out, instead shifting your focus to distracting him like you had previously done.

“Why are you here?” You decided this was a decently safe question, turning yourself to fully face the scarred man as your eyes drifted to the front door for a brief moment. It was closed again, and if you were to try and run past him, you’d risk being fried to a crisp. If you were smart about this, then you’d be able to- 

“Go ahead and try it.” He interrupted your thoughts, pulling your attention back to his lopsided grin, which looked menacing as it tugged on his staples. “I can promise that ya’ won’t make it very far.” His hand extended, lighting up a small blue flame at the tips of his fingers. 

Dabi watched as you looked up at him: your big eyes widened, eyebrows furrowed, and full lips parted open. Fuck. He wanted to pounce on you right then and there, but decided to restrain himself. He needed to take his time with this, since his last interaction with you resulted in him being thrown off guard and flat on his ass. He didn’t even think that you had a Quirk - assuming that you were just some mousy little secretary. Until he was shot back from your cowering form, landing hard on a pile of burnt and broken desks. It surprised him, but it also pissed him off. You lingered in the back of his head for days after, which only pissed him off more. He knew that he could melt the pretty skin right off your bones, but for once, he didn’t want to. He wanted to savor this. He was prepared this time, and he wasn’t going to let you escape from him again. No. Not this time.       

The look on Dabi’s face made you squirm, itching to get away from his gaze. He lazily glanced over at his flame before closing his fist. His hand reached down and into the pocket of his oversized coat, searching for something you couldn’t see. 

You can sense the threatening turn that this was about to take, and on instinct, you pushed your hands out, trying to activate your Quirk. Anything to get him away from you. But he was quicker and stronger, even without his quirk. 

He knew that you were going to try and pull the same stunt, but unlike last time, he was prepared for it. In less than a second, Dabi launched himself forward, catching you off guard with his speed. 

“Heh. That’s not going to work this time, doll.” Dabi launched himself forward with a sound that could only be compared to a growl of a hungry animal. He grabbed your wrists with one hand, pinning them against your lap in a matter of seconds, leering over you. His one knee was sandwiched between your thighs, while his foot was still placed on the ground, using it to balance himself over you.  

You let out a sharp cry as he pulled out what looked like a syringe from his jacket. Instantly, your eyes widened and you fought in his hold, twisting and squirming. Your lungs fought for air at the sight of the needle, igniting your flight or fight response.   

“Don’t fight me. It’s a pain in the ass.” He rasped, seemingly unfazed by your weak attempts to push him off. You were no match for him, but he wanted to scare you a little, so he heated up his palms slightly, warning you to stop. 

The heat rushed from your wrists and all the way up to your cheeks, flushing you into stilling. 

“What are you doing!” You cried out.  

“Can’t have you ruining my plans with that annoying quirk of yours.” He grumbled before plunging the needle into your bicep. The pain was jolting, but the feeling of your quirk leaving your body was much worse. You had grown familiar with the constant sense of your quirk lingering in your veins, and now that it was gone, you were terrified. Was it going to come back?  

“I- What!” Your eyes met his, which had deep bag-like scars under them, held in place by makeshift staples. His eyes were bright and blue, but looked as if they never opened quite fully. Scars seemed to liter his entire body, only small portions of his actual skin poked through. He can’t handle his quirk, you thought. 

Dabi felt a shiver of pleasure run down his spine when you looked over his patch-work face, knowing immediately that the sight of him made you uncomfortable. He was used to people shriveling up in disgust at his face, it was nothing new. But this was different. He felt a sense of heat rush all over his body at your confused face, instead of the usual annoyance. 

“Enjoying the view?” He teased, shattering the silence around you two. 

You cringed back in displeasure, the smell of him overwhelming you now. Smoke and burnt flesh singing the hair in your nose.  

“What the fuck do you want from me?” You managed to calm your nerves slightly, but not by much. Dabi was still leaning over you, making you curl up against the back of the armrest. You didn’t like being caged in like this, and you most definitely didn’t like how he peered down at you.

“Your cooperation would be nice, but either way, I’m going to enjoy this.” Dabi answered your question without actually giving you a clear response. The sense of danger only amplified when you watched his lips curl upwards in a manic like smile. You were sure that his staples would have popped out if he opened his mouth any more. You could see them visibly strain, struggling to keep the healthy skin connected to the scarred tissue. 

“Is this because of what happened at the Agency?” You asked, breathlessly moving your attention from his scars to his eyes again. You didn’t want to piss him off more by staring too long at them. Dabi wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were staring at his scars, but could care less. He was used to people staring at him with disgust, and he grew numb to it.

Dabi let out a scoff. “You’re smarter than you look.” 

“Why? I was just-” 

Dabi leered closer to you, making you flinch and stop talking. “Just being an annoying brat? Thinking that you’re better than me because you’re a Hero?” He spat the word out like it disgusted him to even think, let alone speak it. 

Granted, you knew subconsciously that you were better than a murdering psychopath, but decided it would get you nowhere good if you fought that. You weren’t too keen on the idea of dying prematurely, especially by his flames or whatever else he had in store for you. 

“What was I supposed to do?” You asked, brows furrowing in annoyance. “Sit back and take it?” You regretted the words as soon as you said them, watching as Dabi smirked down at you with a borderline lustful gaze. “I didn’t want to die. My body reacted on impulse, that's it.” You quickly corrected yourself.  

You thought you could buy yourself some time by asking him questions, maybe even distracting him so that you could escape. You knew he was unhinged and wondered if there was a way to use that to your advantage.

“Why does it matter? You burned down half of the Agency and the League still made the cover of every newspaper in Japan.” You found yourself getting angry at the reminder. “You’re lucky that Endeavor wasn’t there. You would’ve been-” Your voice morphed into a scream as soon as you mentioned the Flame Hero. The sudden searing heat of his hands make your back arch up and into the Villain, chest brushing against his stapled flesh. He was barely using his quirk, but even the small amount made your skin singe. 

“You think that flaming pile of shit scares me?” Dabi sneered at you, bringing his face level to yours. You stilled when Dabi pressed himself tighter against you, his nose only inches from your own. You realized that you had either struck a nerve by mentioning Endeavor, or that he just really hated Heroes that much. You had assumed the latter, but could tell there was more to it by his reaction. Dabi’s eyes were filled with rage, but the rage wasn’t all directed at you. 

“He’s just another empty Hero that the world praises for nothing. It’s only a matter of time before he’s ripped off that pedestal.” You flinched back at his words, knowing that there was definitely some sort of vendetta between the two flame users.

As scared as you were, you still felt somewhat angered by the Villains words. Endeavor had been nothing but kind to you, seemingly taking you under his wing when you joined his Agency. It was either your pride that made you say the next words, or your own naivety. You didn’t know which one it was. 

“Endeavor is twice the man you’ll ever be.” 

You watched as Dabi’s turquoise eyes narrowed, meeting them as yours widened at his furious expression. If his flames weren’t hot enough, his stare sure was. Dabi’s eyes were blazing with fury, seemingly darkening from their usual brightness. He watched you carefully, weighing his next options. He realized that you were just as surprised at your words as he was, your eyes widening for a moment before glossing over in attempts to hide it. Cute. He could feel you quivering beneath him, fearing what he would do next. 

Despite the swell of pride you felt for a brief moment, you could quickly feel the overwhelming sense of anxiety push forward. Fuck. At this point, you didn’t really care what happened to you. All you wanted was to get away from his terrifying presence. 

Dabi let his guard down for a mere second, maybe even less, and you immediately took advantage of it. Your wrists twisted apart and out of Dabi’s grip, freeing you for a moment from his suffocating grip. Your next move was on instinct; you ball up your fist before winding it back and sending it crashing into his nose. 

Blood immediately gushed from Dabi’s nose, running down his mismatched lips and down his neck. He staggered backwards from the force of your punch, letting out a guttural growl as he wiped the sticky liquid away. 

Again, you wasted no time in throwing yourself over the back of the couch, landing on all fours and scrambling towards the front door. You pumped your shaky legs as fast as they could handle, stumbling as you ran for freedom. You were nearing the kitchen when a blast of sudden heat licked up the back of your thighs, making you shriek in agony and crumple to the hardwood. Your body sprawled out on the cool ground, which was a stark contrast to your clammy and sizzling skin.  

You glanced down at your awkwardly bent legs, seeing the skin begin to redden and sizzle. It wasn’t a fatal burn, but it was one you’d surely remember since the blisters would definitely scar. The pain was too much and you squeezed your eyes shut, sobbing as you still tried to drag yourself away. 

Dabi followed behind you, taking his time as he watched your pathetic attempts at crawling away. He wanted you to have your little moment of hope, afterall, you were going to wish that you were dead after he was done with you. 

He took his time stalking towards you, his rubber soles thudding against the flooring - purposely being slow to hammer more fear into you. He watched your body shake violently from his attack, your face contorting up in anguish as you tried to push yourself up. Dabi could feel himself getting hard as he approached your struggling form. He felt mildly proud, considering you had him in a similar position not too long ago.  

Smiling wickedly, he planted his booted foot on your back and shoved you back down to the ground. “You can’t run from me.”

Your chin met the floor with a sickening crack, eliciting another wave of pleasure down Dabi’s spine at your pained groan. Your body wavered as you felt a droplet of something wet and sticky hit your cheek, directly beneath your eyes.   

“You broke my fucking nose, doll. You’re lucky to still be breathin’ after that.” Dabi chucked, wiping the remnants of his blood from his nose. He relished in your look of disgust when his blood hit your face, seeing the humiliation build up across your pretty face. 

Shakily, you wiped his blood from your face, cringing as he stared back at you. Your teeth gritted together so hard that you thought they’d shatter if any more pressure were applied. Everything was too much; the throbbing in your legs, your quirk being suppressed, Dabi’s taunting gaze, everything. Hatred mixed with hot rage seeped into your blood, making your body vibrate with adrenaline. 

“Weak flames compared to Endeavor.” You hissed roughly, large eyes glaring up at him in spite. 

Dabi ignored the rage that traveled up his body at your words, knowing that you were doing this just to piss him off. Stupid little Hero. You were powerless, weak, and humiliated, but still fought with a sense of pride. He was going to break down that pride of yours, no matter what. He thought as he bent down, fingers lacing through your tousled hair and jerking your face towards his. If you thought pissing him off was going to save you, you were very wrong. Your words only solidified what he was about to do next. 

“Let go of me!” Dabi used your hair as leverage to get you onto your knees, pulling another shocked cry as your hands shot up to your scalp. The stinging of your thighs amplified in this position, and you awkwardly balanced to lessen the pain. 

“I think I have a better use for that mouth of yours.” Dabi’s hand jolted you forwards before releasing your scalp. You hadn’t realized how much you were relying on his grip to keep you steady, because your knees suddenly wobbled and you fell face-first into the bulge of his jeans, letting out a strangled moan as you did.  

Dabi let out a low groan at the feeling of your face pressing into the tent of his jeans. Your hands pressed into his thighs to push yourself upright as your face scrunched up in disgust at the sudden contact. Dabi shuddered while he watched you try and pull away, only to find yourself pressed into his groin again when his hands pulled you back. 

You gasped in shock, not expecting the force of his hand to smush you back into his crotch. The tip of your nose dug into his length, feeling it twitch slightly at the contact. You mewled, senses overwhelmed at the feeling. 

There was something about the way your eyes squinted and you recoiled back in disgust that drove him mad. A weak little Hero like you needed to learn your place, and what better way would you learn than at the knees of a Villain like him? He wanted to humiliate you in the worst way possible, just like you did with him. 

“Oh come on, doll. Don’t tell me a Hero slut like you never sucked cock before?” He snickered down at you. 

You scowled at him in return, peeling yourself away from his crotch to look up at him with reddening cheeks. Try as you might, you couldn’t hide the blush that stung at your pale skin. 

“Awe. You’re getting shy on me now, dollface? Where’d that spunk go?” Dabi released your hair, fiddling with his belt before pulling out his cock. It sprung out and nearly smacked you in the cheek, narrowly missing as you turned your head away. 

“Get the fuck away from me, patchwork!” You hissed, craning your neck up to look him in the eyes.

Dabi watched you with half-lidded eyes, jutting his hips outwards to smack you in the face with his cock. “I’m gonna make sure to force that attitude out of you.” The tip of his dick pressed against your lips, smearing a trail of salty precum all over. 

It was long and thick, bigger than any other you’ve seen. You didn’t want Dabi to think that you were taken back by it, so you kept your face as blank as you could in this position. Your lips pressed tightly in a thin line, refusing entrance. 

At your reluctance, Dabi tapped his foot against the ground and tilted your jaw up with a single finger. “Open up or I’ll burn you again.”

You frowned, swallowing hard before parting your lips for him. Dabi’s eyes wandered across your face, noting how good you looked with your beady eyes and mouth wide open for him.   

You didn’t have much time to think, because Dabi jerked his hips, his cock grazing against your teeth as he hit the back of your throat. 

You gagged instantly, fresh tears pooling at your lash line as you tried to relax your throat. 

“Shit.” He rasped, head tilting back at the feeling of your throat constricting around him. 

You could feel him twitch against the back of your throat, making you gag once again. The tip of your nose flat against his pubic bone, sucking in as much air as you could handle in this position. Your muffled mewls sent Dabi into a frenzy, who gave you no time to adjust before he started to buck his hips. Your hands flew up to his thighs, grounding yourself as you tried not to throw up. 

“Damn. You’re shaking around my cock, you must really be scared, huh?” Dabi rasped above you, his voice dropping a few decibels at the sight of your teary eyes. 

You choked in response, trailing your tongue along his length. He didn’t necessarily taste bad, but the lingering sweat and precum tasted salty on your buds. With your mouth stuffed completely, you couldn’t hold back the drool that spilled out and down your chin.

“That’s it. I knew there was something useful for that mouth of yours.” Dabi brushed the hair out of your eyes, side eyeing you as you groaned around him. The vibrations shot up through your throat, sending a wave of pleasure around him. 

You quickly tore your gaze away from his, focusing on the scarred skin of his stomach instead. You hated this and you would’ve bit him if you weren’t so frightened of the repercussions that would’ve certainly followed. 

Dabi watched you with lazy eyes, peering down at you with a look that could only be compared to a predator stalking its prey. With each thrust of his hips he felt your throat clench around him, wet noises mixing in sync with your terrified sobs. You were a beautiful sight, even with your mascara running down your cheeks and snot coming out of your nose. He hated to admit it, but he had to focus hard on not shooting his load down your tight little throat. 

“There’s no need to be shy.” He rasped, breathlessly before pulling himself out with a plop. A thick trail of spit connected your lips and the tip of his cock. You gulped back air and sputtered, furiously wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Dabi smirked as you fell back onto your ass with a hiss. He knew you were probably thinking that he would let you go now, or at least praying for it. Silly girl. He wasn’t nearly finished with you. 

He bent down to your level, stuffing himself back into his pants. You were angry and disgusted, the light in your eyes darkening when you met his gaze. The instinct to run was back again, and you were fighting against your natural nervous system's desire to flee. 

It was endearing Dabi thought, but futile. Your eyes darting to the door for a moment gave your intentions away. He made quick work to grab you before you could even blink, letting out a deep chuckle at your surprised reaction.  

His hands wrapped around your hips and hoisted you over his shoulder. You gasped at the sudden movement, laying uncomfortably across his shoulder as he moved towards what you would guess was your bedroom. 

“You got what you wanted! Leave now!” Your naivety was cute, almost entertaining in a sick sense. You knew deep down that he hadn’t gotten his fill. Villains were greedy after all and he wanted everything you had to offer.  

You bucked against him, only earning a quick slap of your thighs in response. Dabi stalked into your bedroom, opening the door and throwing you down onto the mattress. You bounced slightly and curled up into the headboard, while he peeled back his jacket and shirt at the edge of your bed. You could barely see him in the darkness, his face staples barely reflecting the moonlight that peaked through the curtains. 

“Please. Please don’t do this. I- I don’t want this.” Your lower lip quivered and you felt embarrassed to be begging him. You were supposed to be a Hero; brave and strong until the very end. But watching Dabi strip in front of you made your bravery shrivel up and shred into a million pieces. 

“That’s too bad, doll. I want this, so I’m going to take this.” Dabi grabbed ahold of your ankle, tearing you away from the headboard and flat onto your back. You kicked your other leg, trying to hit the side of his head with your heel. Dabi expected this, catching your other ankle and pinning it down. Your legs were spread open, leaving room for him to rest between.

He crawled up to your level, watching carefully as you turned your head to the side to avoid looking at his hideous face. “You’re not going anywhere this time.” He hummed, breathing into your neck as you tried to buck him off. 

His lips were rough against the soft skin of your neck, working down to nip where your neck met your shoulders. You tried to distance yourself from the moisture of his mouth, but his body kept you trapped. You bit on your lip at the feeling, which sent tingles all the way to your toes. 

“Stop. Get off!” 

Dabi’s hand traveled down to the hem of your shorts, toying with the thin material before ripping them off in a shift motion. Your panties followed suit, exposing your core to the cool air. Instead of throwing your panties on the ground with your pants, he brought the material up to his nose before sniffing. His eyes closed and he let out a deep sigh at your scent, like it was the best thing he had ever smelt. Your jaw dropped in a mix of shock and pure repulsion. You kicked and slammed your fists against his chest, but your efforts were fruitless. 

“You can fight me all you want, but I’m the only one with the real power here.” He pulled away from your neck to look into your tearful eyes, lowering himself slowly between your legs again. “Remember that the next time you parade yourself around the press.” His hands wrapped around your thighs, draping one up and over his shoulder. The cool metal of his staples skimmed across your flesh, his hands keeping you planted in place. 

“What are - no!” Your mind raced as you tried to scoot back from his head, which rested between your legs. 

Your breathing stunted as you shook your head adamantly, your palms pressed flat at your sides as you tried to resist. His hands stopped you before you got anywhere, keeping you pinned to the mattress while he dropped his head lower, watching you with slitted eyes. 

“It’s only fair that I return the favor, doll.” You were about to cry out, but quickly clamped your mouth shut when you felt his breath against your weeping cunt. The thought of accidentally moaning or gasping at his head buried against you was enough to scare you into biting your tongue. 

Dabi’s bright eyes shifted from your chest, which rose and fell quickly, and down to your cunt. His fingers dipped down to spread you further apart, blowing softly on the glistening skin. He could feel his erection press tightly against his pants, but knew that he needed to take his time. You were going to regret ever standing up from that desk at the Agency. He was going to make sure of it. 

He licked his lips, giving you no time to protest as he rubbed his nose from your little hole to your clit. Your thighs tensed around his shoulder, digging your heel into his back. He grinned, watching as your hands tangled into the sheets. Sensitive. He barely even started. 

You suddenly felt his tongue, which was unnaturally hot just like the rest of him. He lapped at your hole, gathering the slick that quickly bloomed and dragging it up and towards your clit. The wet muscle circled around a few times, hitting every sensitive spot he could find. Your hands gripped the sheets in attempts of grounding yourself, but it did little in blocking out the wet sounds that reached your ears. 

There was nothing you could do to stop him when his finger slid into you, meeting little resistance at your sopping hole. Your back arched, the sound of his tongue licking and sucking at your clit sending your brain into a frenzy. The noises were lewd and exaggerated, giving you no mind to picture yourself elsewhere. Anywhere but here. You thought.  

“Nuh!” Your hand slapped over your mouth when the moan slipped out, realizing the mistake you made immediately. 

Dabi paused to glance up at you, watching you with a crooked gaze. Your terrified pupils were blown wide, lips curling back in disgust. He continued to watch you when he curled his finger, pressing directly into that spongy spot of your walls. Another mewl rumbled in your throat and you tossed your head into the sheets. 

“Not so tough now, eh? And here I thought you’d have a little more fight in ya’, but you’re too busy soaking my face.” He cooed, which only made his voice sound even more raspy. 

He pulled his finger out slowly, savoring in the way you gushed and clamped down on it, almost like your cunt knew that it needed to be filled. He pushed it back in, curling upwards before repeating the same motions. Over and over, he twisted and pulled his fingers, pumping them in and out.  

You moaned louder this time, clenching your thighs around his head and arching your chest. The back of your mind screamed in protest, begging for the assault to stop. Your limbs felt like mush, unable to do much except squirm. 

“Right there? Is that it?” 

He repeated the movement a few more times as his mouth latched back onto your throbbing clit. Dabi could feel your resolve dwindle away with each passing stroke of his tongue, seeing your fists loosen and lips part open in pleasure. Your reactions spurred him on, knowing that you were close to cumming. 

His cock strained behind the confinements of his jeans, still rock hard from earlier. It was pure anguish, but he knew what needed to be done. He would only have to wait a little longer… Just a little. 

“Oh my.” You whimpered. 

Dabi’s tongue swirled as his finger pumped in and out of you, sending you over the edge with a final cry. Your cunt gushed over his face, taking both you and him by surprise when the clear liquid squirted out suddenly. You could feel yourself clenching down on his finger, squeezing the appendage tightly as you squealed. 

Dabi licked up everything he could, giving your clit one last flick as he lifted himself from your dripping heat. “Fuck doll, I didn’t think you’d take that so literal.” He wiped his face with his hands, smiling down at you. 

You blushed furiously as your slick ran down his cheeks and jaw. You didn’t know which was worse, the fact that you had squirted all over him or that you had never done that before. You felt rage that he forced you to orgasm, let alone from his disgusting mouth .   

Your body relented, heavy breaths leaving your cracked lips. You had been so lost in your head that you never realized Dabi lining his cock up with your hole. “No! Get off of me!” Your hands slammed into his chest, pushing against his scars. 

“Relax, waterworks.” He taunted, shooting you a singular glare before pinning your wrists above your head. 

Despite the slick that stuck against your thighs and ass, you knew that his cock was going to stretch you to the max. Your eyebrows shooting up when you felt him run it along your folds, gathering your arousal before prodding at your hole. 

“Dabi! Just give me a sec-” Your breathing hitched when he slammed into you, eyes wide and unseeing as your head flew back into the bed. Your throat let out another piercing shriek at the sudden intrusion. The sheer size of him made your insides burn up, sending a painful twist inside your gut. 

“Fuck.” He grunted. “Should’ve bent you over the desk when I first saw ya’, didn’t realize you’d be this tight.” Dabi’s eyes rolled back as he closed them, savoring the feeling of your tight, wet heat that clamped on him like a vice. 

You cringed back, shutting your eyes and grinding your teeth. 

Dabi rolled his hips, focusing on stuffing you full. You hissed, feeling his cock brush against your cervix. Despite the searing pain, your body was growing accustomed to his size. You could hear the faintest sound of your slick pussy squishing around him. 

 “Oh fuck. You’re suffocating.” Dabi bent down towards you, focusing his attack on your lips. You realized this and at the last second, turned your head away. He didn’t mind, instead focusing on peppering kisses and licks on your cheek and neck. 

Tears welled up in your eyes when you felt his tongue lick at your cheek. You twisted your body, trashing in his hold in attempts to throw him off. This barely fazed him, only making him heat up his palms to get you to still. 

“What would your Hero friends say if they saw you now, doll? Pinned under a Villain; squirming and cumming all over me?” Dabi teased, dropping his pelvis onto yours to hit deeper. 

Your jaw slacked open at the new angle. A sudden burst of pleasure traveling up your cunt and to your head. In response, your jaw dropped to let out a low-whiny moan. You wanted to scream at him, but couldn’t find the courage to speak. You felt powerless in the situation, hiccuping and moaning as he drilled into you. 

“There it is. Feels good doesn’t it?” 

“Fuck. Dabi- ” He shuddered when you moaned his name, feeling his core tighten at the soft whimpering of your voice. Your brows furrowed, desperately trying to fight the feelings that he was delivering with each stroke of his cock. 

“Shit. Look at you, doll. Such a pretty sight.” Dabi felt the weight of the world lift from his shoulders when his cock bottomed out inside you. Your tight gummy walls were sucking him in, squeezing him to a point that was almost painful. He never realized that you’d be this much of a slut; so easy and wet, begging to be taken.  

Your eyes rolled back. You were so close, and you knew that you weren’t going to last much longer. You just wanted to focus on the pleasure, not the person that was delivering it to you. He knew instantly what you were trying to do; dropping your wrists and grabbing ahold on your peaked nipple. He gave it a sharp twist, drawing out a sharp cry as he tugged on the hardened bud. 

“Stay with me.” Your hands flew to his shoulders, steadying yourself with his forceful pace. The pads of your fingers traced along his staples before quickly retreating. 

Dabi chuckled, “You can touch them, they don’t hurt.” He moved your arms back over his shoulders, planting them against the textured skin. You whined and shuddered at the feeling of his skin. Every one of your senses were at their max, so sensitive and alert.    

 “D-dabi!” You mewled like a kitten, dragging your nails down his back when his fingers began to assault your clit again.  

“Ah- would you look at that?” Dabi hovered his hand in front of your face, scissoring his index and middle finger to show you the slick that connected the two digits. 

If you weren’t so wound up in the sensation of his cock dragging up and down your walls you would’ve hit him. You only squinted at him, earning a dark chuckle that reverberated against your chest. 

The familiarity of tightness coiled back in your gut, snapping immediately when you saw him lick his fingers clean. The crudeness of his action sent your body over the edge and made you scream out. Your walls fluttered, causing him to drop his hand next to your head for support as his body twitched. 

“There you go.” He hissed. 

You were glad that your orgasm made your eyes roll back, because the look on Dabi’s face would have humiliated you more. He grinned manically, his smile stretching wide enough for him to feel his staples strain to hold the skin together. Your tongue lolling out and drool dribbling down the sides of your jaw was enough to make him peak. 

Your body continued to convulse as he painted your walls white, his cum burning your insides as he filled you. 

“Oh god.” You wanted to protest, but couldn’t. 

“Fuck!” He moaned loud, slowing his pace before pulling out. 

You twitched at the loss of contact, head tilting to rest on the bed as your arms fell from his shoulders. The feeling of his cum slipping out of your abused hole made you tingle, bringing your knees up to curl into a ball. 

“You got what you wanted, now leave.” You managed to whisper, not looking in his direction as he wiped his dick on the sheets of your bed before tucking himself back into his pants.     

His belt clicked as he tightened it back up. “What I wanted eh? Weren’t you the one who came twice? I don’t think we're even just yet, doll.” Dabi closed in on you, dropping beside you and wrapping an arm around your waist to pull your back against his chest. 

You let him guide your exhausted body into his heated one, realizing that there was no point in fighting in your current condition. “We’re just getting started.” He cooed into your ear, nose burying into your matted locks. 

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[dashielldeveron]

soulmate trope | dabi

Dabi’s route of soulmate trope.

"post-canon dabi? canon isn't even finished as of when this was posted on 30 july 2023!" to you. i know he's doing just fine. and obviously i will be wrong about some things. warnings: female reader. manga spoilers up to chapter 390: specifically about touya's body but vaguely about ~all of that~. sexual content. food mention/discussion. injury descriptions (burns) that aren't reader's. weeb slander. a note: part of the plot revolves around...analysing anime. i use hunter x hunter here, and if you are not into that, i have, to the best of my knowledge, included neither spoilers (aside from early story arc names) nor information that cannot be understood via context clues. additionally, there is a brief pokemon metaphor that also can hopefully be understood with context clues as well.

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You’re being watched.

Or rather, you had the eerily intense inkling that you were being watched, or as if you were some sort of recently awakened sleeper agent—as if you were somehow the key to someone’s spying into U.A., even though the most secretive thing going on right now in 3-A’s common area was that Hagakure’s facial features were somewhat revealed by the drying face mask.

“Jirou,” you said, bookmarking your place, “Would you mind checking for—I don’t know, any kind of outside surveillance devices in here?”

Jirou bit the stem of the carnation she’d been about to weave into Yaoyorozu’s hair and shifted all the strands of the braid into one hand, and she tilted her head to jab the arm of the couch with her earjack. After a few moments, she unsheathed it, the hole in the couch sealing itself, and shook her head. “Nothing out of the ordinary. What’s up?”

Furrowing your brow, you shoved your book between the cushion and arm of your chair. “I’m not sure. It’s—I have this weird feeling that someone’s looking at me. Or through me, really. Both? I don’t know how to describe it, but it feels like someone else is seeing what I’m seeing.”

“Do your eyes hurt, ribbit?” Asui asked from her spot on the floor, where she was sorting her m&ms by colour.

“No. More like I’m hyperaware of them,” you said, “But I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching all of this because of me.”

“What’s there to watch? It’s nothing but a Girls and Todoroki Night. There’s nothing worth seeing and or any big secrets being spilled. Well, spoilers for the New Year’s episode of Kamisama Kiss, but it’s been out for years already,” said Mina, gesturing towards the television, and Uraraka snatched Mina’s hand out of the air and laid it flat on the coffee table again, because she’s not done painting her nails, damn it. Mina sighed dreamily at the sheep whose wool fluffed enough to take up the entire screen. “What I wouldn’t give for my hair to have that much volume.”

“I guess you’re right,” you said, settling down into your chair, pulling Shinsou’s blue-pineappled blanket up to your neck (he was out on his bike, so he wasn’t attending this Girls and Todoroki Night [Shinsou and Todoroki were the only boys allowed, since their presence wasn’t obtrusive or contrary to the vibe. Additionally, Shinsou thought it was funnier if his name weren’t included in the title of these events]). “Y’know, in the manga, the New Year avatar isn’t a sheep. It’s a dragon.”

Mina blew on her hands as Uraraka rebottled the nail polish brush. “Whaaaaat?

“It was changed to a sheep to align with the year the episode was released,” said Todoroki, his thumb and index finger pinching his lower lip with his eyes glued to the screen, “I understand the change on a narrative scale, but I believe the dragon had more of a character arc than the sheep. The dragon didn’t think it was as appealing as other years’ avatars, and it had to learn to accept itself and accept others’ love for it. It was rooted in misunderstanding.”

For some reason, when you looked at Todoroki, you were doused with regret. Sharp and cold, followed by a splash of something more muddled: envy, maybe? Gratitude?

These…these feelings weren’t yours.

***

“I can’t believe I missed a Girls and Todoroki Night,” said Shinsou, grinning, his legs dangling off the dorm’s kitchen counter, “but alas! The night was calling, and I had to go out in it.”

“We will not spoil Kamisama Kiss for you,” said Todoroki. He was crouched in front of the oven, hands clasped as he stared through the tinted window at the browning potato wedges. “You will have to watch that episode on your own.”

“You should really read the manga,” you were saying as you scanned the inside of the refrigerator, looking for anything that might go well with the potatoes—ah, Aoyama’s got some bougie-looking sauce. Savoury, by the looks of it. “It goes farther than the anime covers, and it’s so sweet. The worldbuilding gets better, too.” You took out the bottle and gave it an experimental shake.

“Really?” Shinsou wrinkled his nose. “I don’t know; that villain guy isn’t very fun. Feels like too much time is wasted on him.”

Todoroki’s head snapped towards Shinsou at the same time you slammed the refrigerator shut. “No,” the both of you said at the same time, and you continued. “The anime hasn’t been quite as accurate in tone regarding that character, but he’s really wonderful, eventually. You really feel for what happened to him and for his past relationship to the main characters. Simple but effective job of deconstructing his villainy and granting him humanity.”

“Huh.” Shinsou propped his cheek on his fist, his ankle resting on his opposite knee. “I wonder how much nuance I’m missing because I’m only watching the anime.”

For a second, you felt as groggy as if you’d just woken up, your eyes focusing a bit more precisely, blurring the kitchen tiles for a moment before re-focusing, and it crept in again: the feeling that someone was watching you, that someone else was here.

“Hey, Shinsou, Todoroki,” you said, blinking several times, Aoyama’s brown sauce clutched in both hands, “Do my eyes look any different?”

Both of them looked you over. Shinsou shook his head. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’ve got—” You nodded towards Todoroki. “I have that same feeling from last night. Like someone’s watching. But Jirou said nothing was wrong.” Shrugging, you tossed the sauce to Shinsou and sat in front of the oven with Todoroki. “I guess Kamisama Kiss must bring out the voyeur in me. Or being voyeur-ed. Watched.” You crossed your legs at the same time Todoroki jolted because of a crushed peppercorn popping in the oven. “Maybe we should start reading manga alongside the anime so that we can judge how accurate they are. See how much character nuance is lost or preserved.”

Todoroki’s eyes bulged. “You have no idea how much that appeals to me. I desperately need to discuss the differences between the Hunter x Hunter 1999 anime, the 2011 anime, and the manga. Sero refuses to watch the 1999 version.”

Amusement. Condescension. Bubbling to the top of your consciousness.

Distinctly not yours.

Why would you be feeling these things in the face of something that sounded so wonderfully, uselessly pedantic? A project like Todoroki’s just proposed sounded like an absolutely ideal waste of time that would allow you to be more accurate than the vast majority of people when it came to plot, lore, and characterisation. Why would emotions you’d associate with making fun of someone pop up now? You didn’t want to make fun of Todoroki; you were enthusiastic about joining him in this pointless endeavour.

The timer on Shinsou’s phone blared, and he tapped it off, patting his pockets (?) for the oven mitt, which he spotted on the counter next to him. “Why would Sero refuse to watch the older version?”

Todoroki helped you stand and guided the both of you away from the oven. “To be fair, in the 1999 anime, the animators did take liberties with panel composition and brought in new angles and lines sporadically. Colours are also odd and inaccurate, and those are corrected, for the most part, in the 2011 version. More of the manga is covered, and the animation is smoother in the 2011 version as well.”

Why did you feel the distant sensation of laughing? Nothing about this has been funny, per se, but the…what was going on?

“Okay, I’ll bite,” you said, strangely heavy and hyperaware and surveying the tray of steaming potato wedges as Shinsou shuffled it to the stove, “I’ll do it with you, all this manga accuracy checking.”

“Me, too,” said Shinsou, shaking the over mitt off, “My suggestion is that we keep it to just the three of us, to prevent exhausting arguments, like we’d have in a big group the size of Girls and Todoroki Nights.”

“I can lend you the first few volumes,” said Todoroki, opening a cabinet to search for Aoyama’s sauce bowls, “After that, I have a link to high-quality scans I can send you.”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, reaching for a potato wedge that did not sizzle and screech as much as the others, “Should we watch the first episode tomorrow night?” When you retracted your hand at the burn, you felt your own pain and someone else’s sense of nostalgia.

***

You’d already been on the precipice of falling asleep during Present Mic’s lesson, but when a concentrated shot of fatigue pierced you, you set down your pen and reluctantly resolved to get the subsequent notes from Iida. God, couldn’t this wait until you were out of class? No one needed to see how terrible your own notes were. No one needed to see your drawings in the margins.

Burying your face in your hands, you dug the heels of your palms into your eyes, rubbing them as the lethargy kicked in, and you braced yourself for the uncanny sensation of being your own worst voyeur.

When you opened them, after the lightheaded dots blinked away, you weren’t in the classroom, instead entrenched in darkness. Well, wait—you groped around on your desk: physically, you still were upright in your desk at U.A., able to grasp your pen, set it down, able to faintly hear Present Mic, as if he’s in the next room over.

Blindly, you tapped Mina’s desk behind you, turning your head over your shoulder. “Do my eyes look weird to you?”

“No. Should they?” she whispered back—or maybe she said it at a normal volume, and the classroom had been so far removed the distance silenced her.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you faced the front again. Looks like you have to figure this out yourself, or else you’ll be sitting in pitch black for who knows how long.

A minute passed. Your eyes adjusted to the darkness, shapes appearing—you’re inside. In a room with the lights off. Sideways, for some reason. One of the shapes was so rigidly rectangular that it had to be a shoji divider, and you were just trying to estimate its size when all of your mental facilities halted at a loud, rumbling groan.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” a scratchy, masculine voice said, “Must be my turn, huh?”

He flipped over, and barely cracked venetian blinds behind dark curtains just barely illuminated part of the scene: you were seeing this sideways because he was lying in bed, an out-of-place, opulent, Western-style bed in what you assumed was an Eastern-style room, judging what you could make out of traditional wallpaper and tatami flooring.

“Well, you’re not getting anything out of me,” he said, reaching for one of the many strewn pillows and hugging it—you lost half of your sight when his face sank into it (too dark for you to get a good look at his hands or arms), “Sucks for you, but I’m going back to sleep. Don’t care how curious you are. Not sharin’ anything with someone who can’t cook potato wedges right.”

No, get up. Get up. Say more right now. Who was he? It’s—it’s the middle of the day, anyhow; what is he doing asleep?

“Hah. You’re angry with me.” His laugh sounded more like a hiss, somehow. “Get used to it.”

He shut his eyes. After about a minute, the darkness faded, and Present Mic’s voice hit you at full volume, and you winced, clamping a hand down on your notes when the classroom came into view.

***

“You are not dropping out of school the semester you’re supposed to graduate,” said Aizawa, pinching the bridge of his nose, elbow digging into the puffy leather chair by Nezu’s desk.

“From my perspective, it does not appear you are a liability to U.A.’s security.” Nezu steepled his paws together, his pink toe beans preventing him from pressing them completely flat. “Simply seeing through each other’s eyes and feeling some of his emotions are no cause for the drastic security measures you are proposing. I believe that so long as you have some sort of indicator that either situation is happening, faculty can prepare for your temporary debility.”

“Don’t even think about abusing it to get out of class,” said Aizawa, propping his chin on his fist.

“You think I would? Shocked! Shocked and offended,” you said, “I’m gonna be in class; I don’t trust anyone else’s notes. I want my own interpretations of lectures.” You slumped down in your seat, tilting your head back to stare at the ceiling. “Principal Nezu, do you have an idea of why this is happening to me?”

“I do.” Nezu opened the top drawer in his desk to retrieve a stack of yellow-green papers, torn from a legal pad and crimped because of whatever was spilled on it. “Recovery Girl and Midnight have been analysing the results of Tainted Love’s quirk for some time now. The female rehabilitation centre with which Midnight works, Sakura Grove, has uncovered evidence of two other incidents that caused a soulmate bond with similar qualities to form.”

“What? No,” you said, letting a whine creep into your voice, “That means my soulmate’s a jerk. He was rude to me. He insulted my potato wedge recipe.”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he crossed his arms. “You can’t expect there to be love at first sight, can you? Love is a choice. You work at it every day. You have to keep choosing it.”

“Yaoyorozu and Jirou were already dating when they got assigned soulmates,” you said, listing on your fingers, “Midoriya and Uraraka had been pining after each other for years—”

Aizawa scowled. “Stop that.”

“So, do you want me to report anything? Do you want me to duck out of class when he—checks in?”

“If you feel unsafe, let us know. Otherwise, it is of my opinion that you will be just fine,” said Nezu, and he reached for his paw-sized coffee cup to remove the melting stroopwaffle cookie off the top. “Report what you perceive as dangerous, but you deserve privacy. When you decide on your signal that the bond is active, please send an email to faculty members. Whether or not you inform your peers is at your discretion.”

***

So, of course, you told everyone.

Meaning no one batted an eye the next time the soulmate bond activated, which was in class. Feeling the exhaustion and the slight buzz from your soulmate popping in to watch through you, you made the phone call symbol, grabbed a marker from the whiteboard, and headed out into the hall, no questions asked.

“Hey,” you were saying, shoving your forearm against the concrete-block wall and popping the marker cap off with your mouth, “Good to hear from you. Didn’t know I could see through you, too. Excited to see how we’ll deal with that. This is my phone number.” You scrawled it across your arm, along with your given name above it. “If you can’t memorise it now, that’s fine. I’ll write it down next time, too, so you could prepare to have something nearby to record it with. I look forward to getting to know you.”

No strong emotions on his part. But he was there.

“Okay,” you said, and you turned to sink down against the wall to sit in the deserted hallway. “Some basic stuff: I’m a student at U.A., in my last year. I’m in that—uh, I’m in the class that’s gotten into a bit of trouble over the past few years. Midoriya, Bakugou, and all of them, if you watch the news. I’ve just ducked out of class with everyone.” You kept looking at your arm so that he could memorise it. “I don’t really wanna talk about my quirk, since that seems like such a boring, capital-A adult question, but I can tell you about it later, if you really want to know. Oh! I do not suck at making potato wedges. It was just a recipe that none of us had made before, and they were fine. They were good. I—”

And he’s gone, link severed.

Crossing your arms, you slumped against the wall. Did he choose to end it? Could he? He didn’t seem very receptive, so you wouldn’t put it past him.

***

You woke up from a nap watching through him play a video game, some non-discernible, first-person shooter. Again in the dark, but perhaps not in the same room. The windows weren’t open enough to let in enough light to tell.

Your soulmate never acknowledged you were there by gesture or word. Just played his stupid fucking game. You were trying to send him foul vibes of frustration and indignation, but he ignored you.

After a mere six minutes of the world’s worst Let’s Play, you decided you could be a little bitch as well.

***

“Oh! He’s here. Excuse me,” you said to Shinsou and Jirou, making the phone call gesture as you pushed yourself up from the lunch table, “I’ll be back in a moment. Please guard my gummies from Monoma.”

A flash of curiosity, finally, from your soulmate as he got the image of Shinsou and Jirou smirking to themselves and waving you off.

Once you were alone outside in the courtyard, you pulled out and unfolded the piece of pink construction paper, at this point every inch covered by doodles of flowers and increasingly shitty bulbasaurs. You tapped at the writing in the centre. “This is called a telephone number,” you said, “This one belongs to me. If you dial this number into a phone to call it, you will reach me. Then, we could have a conversation and arrange to meet up, instead of this unreliable, one-sided bond.”

You flattened your hand to smooth out the creases, halting midway when it struck you. “I’ve just realised you may be confused by this situation. Don’t worry; I am as well. But be assured, due to a quirk incident, we’ve been assigned soulmates. Yeah, I know they’re fake, but with this villain Tainted Love’s quirk, soulmates are real.”

He evidently was feeling like he wanted to walk straight into the ocean.

“I’m assuming you’re not a U.A. student, so—do you remember breathing in some sort of pink dust? Within about the past—I don’t know, two and a half years? That’s how long Tainted Love was active. She only got arrested about a month or so ago.” You couldn’t garner anything from him except for exasperation, so you continued. “And not, like, snorting a line of pink dust. It would’ve been in a dust cloud. A bit like fog. You would’ve noticed it.”

Staring at your phone number the whole time, you allowed him silence to think. Whatever he was feeling was very subdued, so you couldn’t really surmise what it was, but ten seconds before the bond broke, a livid, fiery ire consumed your whole body in the heat of recognition.

***

Shinsou, Todoroki, and you were all crowded around a laptop in Shinsou’s dorm to watch the beginning episodes of Hunter x Hunter the next time your soulmate spoke to you. He’d gone a couple of times ignoring you in silence, once outside on a walk during the day on a path uptown you didn’t recognise, and the other on some rooftop while playing on his phone and watching a meteor shower. Completely disregarding your attempts to give him your number or talk to him in real time.

It just figured that he bothered to spare you any information when you were trying to see what the next phase of the Hunter Exam was, so Todoroki and Shinsou paused the show for you and waited. With a stab of affection for your friends, you moved to the corner, waiting for your soulmate to say something.

And he was. Your soulmate knew more combinations of swear words and general filth than you’ve ever cared to consider, and you were almost impressed with the creativity of his vulgarity. Outside under the night sky, he was furiously ripping open some medium-sized, cardboard box as he stomped towards a carefully cultivated, lilypad-covered, manmade pond towards the back of a highly organised, traditional garden.

Eventually, non-profanity was added. “Goddamn fucking shit-ass fish and goddamn fucking shit-ass crusty motherfucking doctor can’t take care of his own goddamn fucking pet project.” Tips of his house slippers stopping at the pond only by way of running into the stone wall, he stumbled, growling in frustration, before regaining his balance and yanking out the plastic bag inside the remnants of the box. “Wants a goddamn gift for fucking Mom but can’t be arsed to do it him-fucking-self. Deserves every fish fucked into his respiratory system, clogging up his arteries to give himself a goddamn heart attack. And then I can’t be blamed for—” The plastic stretched, and he ended up tearing it in half above the water, pieces falling atop waterlilies. “Shit on a cuntbag. What the fuck. I don’t deserve this.”

He stretched to reach the waterlilies, cupping his hands to sweep the fish food off and into the water. And—the moonlight struck the gently rippling water, enough for you to see a flash of an orange koi tail break the surface tension, but not enough to see whatever was going on with his hands—not that he was doing anything strange with them (just picking shreds of plastic out of the water), but they somehow were strange. They moved stiffly and had some sort of bumps on them, but—does this guy live in darkness? You couldn’t tell anything about what his hands looked like aside from the shadowed bumps, which could be anything.

“I deserve a lot, but I sure as hell don’t deserve this.” He rounded the pond and punched a few buttons on a small, hidden, monitor, checking the pH of the pool and water levels. “Not my fucking job. Not my fucking job. Why do they think—why am I the one to do this shit. How come I can get in trouble with my fucking brother for him not taking care of his project.” He swatted at his wet bathrobe sleeve, pissed, and shook out some of the water. “Hey, you. I know you’re there.”

Back in the dorm, you jolted in your seat. In the distance, you could hear Shinsou ask what was wrong. “Nothing,” you said, sounding distant yourself, “He acknowledged me is all. Hasn’t done that for a while, so it felt like a fourth wall break.”

Your soulmate sat down on the edge of the pond, glaring out at the rest of the garden (wisteria heavy, vines swaying in the night wind). “Are you hot?”

You’d never wanted to be able to transfer direct words or actions to him so much, because he needed to be strangled.

“I’m not kidding.” He crossed his arms, covered by a dark bathrobe, sticking his hands in his armpits. “Are you hot? I don’t like the idea of being connected to some hideous fuckwad.”

Never mind. Now you have never wanted to be—

“This quirk shit isn’t gonna last long, but if you’re hot, you need to get on my dick before it goes away. I wanna see how it looks giving me a blowjob from your perspective.”

Kill. Destroy. Maim. Eviscerate, even.

“Ooh, watch out. We’ve got an uptight, prudish bitch over here,” he said, and he laughed—again, sounding more like a hiss than anything else. “Well, then. If you’re not gonna put out, then I’ve got no use for you. Don’t need anyone, especially not some goddamn lunatic who claims to be my soulmate. Too many people are interfering in my life, anyway. And to be honest, it seems like you’re dumb and irritating. I don’t like people like you.”

Maybe you’re soulmates because you’re destined to kill him on sight. Your soul, calling out for his to suffer extreme violence. He’d deserve it.

May all his potato wedges burn.

***

Monoma was at the next Hunter x Hunter anime viewing, because he’d been dying to know why you were wearing an actual and literal clown costume, wig and enormous foam nose included.

“I’m liking the new hero outfit,” Monoma said, flipping his hair back with a flourish, “but why are you wearing it during our off-hours?”

“Shove off,” you said, grinning as Shinsou tossed you a pillow to hold, “Did you bring your peach gummies?”

“I did,” said Monoma, sitting next to you on Todoroki’s tatami mats, and he pulled a massive bag of white peach gummies from inside his jacket, handing it to you to open. “May I ask if it’s seriously part of your new uniform, or—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Monoma,” you said, ripping open the bag at the notch, “I’m making a point.”

“Her soulmate,” Shinsou supplied, pulling up the next episode, “He wants to know what she looks like. So, she’s been dressing up in horrible, gawdy shit so that he can never really tell, even around mirrors.”

“He’s pissed,” you said, beaming, digging into the bag and popping a gummy into your mouth, “He wants me to stop playing around, but he was mean to me. Mean to me, unprovoked, and in a way that wasn’t hot. Tomorrow, I’m wearing a sheet and running around like a ghost. I will say nothing to him but boo.”

“I suppose that explains the influx of regular face masks you’ve taken to wearing during class.” Monoma scoffed, his incredulous, open mouth stretching into a grin. “You are impossible. If your humourless soulmate is worth his salt, then he should at least value the effort you’re putting into it.”

“Sero has sent me a message,” interrupted Todoroki, thumb swiping his phone screen, “He says that he has changed his mind and would like to join us. He’s started rereading the series and likes it more this time around.” Todoroki looked up and around his room, lips pursed. “There is not much space for five people. It is getter harder to see the laptop.”

***

The five of you started the Heaven’s Arena arc of Hunter x Hunter in Aizawa’s dorm apartment, seeing as he had the best television setup: for one, having an actual television instead of simply relying on his computer. His sound system held up, too, though you suspected Present Mic had something to do with that, instead of Aizawa’s own preferences.

You, Shinsou, Todoroki, Monoma, and Sero were scattered across Aizawa’s living room, all cosied under blankets and pillows and pointed towards his wall-mounted television, sitting on his cat-hair covered couch and armchairs, mugs and snacks on his coffee table, socked feet loose, and house slippers at the edge of the shag rug. The cats, Dango and Konpeito, chose to snuggle up towards Todoroki and you (beat that, Shinsou!), so you were careful not to disturb them from their slumber on your lap. No sudden movements, even when the tired dizziness of your bitch soulmate faded in.

“Spoilers for Hunter x Hunter, I suppose, even though it’s been out for decades,” you said under your breath, raising your hand to signal to the others that your soulmate was looking in. At your movement, Dango raised her head from her cocoon in your lap to yawn, her face nearly turning inside out, and she flinched, her pupils dilating, at the creak of the door.

Laden with groceries, Aizawa stepped into his own apartment, his brow furrowing at the sight of his students in his living room. “You have ten seconds to tell me what you’re doing here.”

“The fuck?” Sero whipped his head towards Shinsou and back at Aizawa. “Shinsou told us you were okay with it.”

“I said that he wouldn’t mind, which he can’t if he doesn’t catch us,” said Shinsou, bracing himself when Aizawa tugged at his capture weapon around his neck, “It’s my fault, Aizawa-sensei. Please don’t get angry at anyone else.”

Your soulmate seemed pleased that you were getting in trouble. Bastard.

Aizawa set his cloth bags on his kitchen counter, the insides shifting with the weight of the groceries. “Is this appropriate for Eri to watch?”

“Well, in general—”

A character onscreen chose that moment to seductively moan another character’s name, over and over again.

Aizawa winced, scrunching his eyes shut tightly. “Turn that shit off. Find another place to watch it.” Shaking his head, he unbagged the first of his groceries. “Shinsou, never bring anyone, including yourself, into my personal space again with express permission.”

“Damn it,” you said, reaching for the remote. You pressed the power button, watching the screen fade from the vibrant colours of Heaven’s Arena to black, with Aizawa’s living room reflecting back at you. Forlornly, you scratched the back of Dango’s neck, watching her mirrored reaction, before you realised what you were doing: giving your bitch-ass soulmate a clear view of your bare face. Eyes bulging, you gasped and bent over to hide your face, with Dango scurrying away at being disturbed.

The connection cut at the faint suggestion of intrigue.

***

YOU

hey i know we said we’d keep it small but. i think midoriya would really enjoy the battle analysis that the hxh characters are doing

YOU

bc they be doing some QUICK analytic work based on their opponents’ personalities

TODOROKI 💅🎏

Midoriya has been asking more questions than usual during our sparring sessions.

SERO 🧃🍊

ffs why isn’t he already in the group? should’ve thought of him

SHINSOU 💜🍡

want me to add him?

YOU

would that be okay, todoroki?

TODOROKI 💅🎏

There’s more than enough room at our new venue. We should invite him.

SHINSOU 💜🍡

why don’t you text him then? it’s at your place

MONOMA 🔇🎭

Midoriya CANNOT sit next to me

MONOMA 🔇🎭

I’d like to hear the onscreen dialogue instead of whatever he’s saying under his breath

MONOMA 🔇🎭

He CANNOT shut up

YOU

WHOMST won’t shut up??????

SERO 🧃🍊

don’t worry no one will sit next to you

MONOMA 🔇🎭

Good

MONOMA 🔇🎭

Wait

TODOROKI 💅🎏

Midoriya can attend! He’ll be a little late today, but I think we should wait for him, since it’s his first time joining us.

Startled by the waiter, you put your phone down on your notebook and accepted your coffee graciously. You shifted your laptop and notebook over so that you could cup the mug in front of you, its warmth seeping through the sides, and you took a tentative slurp. Interesting. You’ll finish it, but you won’t order this again.

You were killing time that Saturday by getting ahead on your work for Put Your Hands Up Radio: editing and fact-checking news segments that Yamada would read between songs towards the evening. Electing to get some sunshine on your skin before hunkering down with the group again to analyse some anime, you’d chosen to edit the articles outside at a café you’d discovered recently, one at which you hadn’t decided on a regular order yet and were shopping around the menu each time you came. Plus, if you’d stayed on campus, no doubt Shinsou or Monoma would’ve found you to distract you.

The café’s patio with scorching, cast-iron furniture and haphazard parasol installation led to most of its customers sitting inside, but that meant you had space to think, even with the hot groves of your seat imprinting patterns into your skin.

Your soulmate was probably being rude because he was scared, or perhaps he didn’t believe that Tainted Love’s quirk was legitimate. You’d have to assure him that it was, as you’d run through Nezu’s report with Midnight and Recovery Girl, fact-checking that. Either way. Some frustrated guy—living at home, apparently, and pissed about it—was paired out of the blue with some student at U.A. He might be scared that you were a creep.

Tainted Love’s team’s notes on her quirk that Midnight had confiscated explained that each soulmate bond, somehow, was moulded around the pair’s personalities and would fulfil a lifelong need. A lot of responsibility, it seemed, but if it were true—and other pairs proved it true—you would fulfil it naturally, and so would he.

So, even though your soulmate had been rude, you’d give him a chance. The soulmate bond existed for a reason. Plus, he might be a real-life tsundere, and wouldn’t that be fun to crack? To be the only one a rude, evil person was soft for was the ideal, wasn’t it? Someone so naturally cruel and heartless but learning to be kind for you—

Get a hold of yourself. He’s a real guy who will be in your life forever, not just someone you can throw away, like a celebrity/pro-hero crush. Treat him seriously.

“I’m…being serious,” you said to yourself, pouting into your coffee. You hunched in your seat to drink from the mug without lifting it, and you slorped away the neck of the latte art swan the barista had so carefully poured. “He’s probably not even be a sexy sort of cold-hearted. He’s just a type of bitchiness I haven’t learnt how to handle yet.”

Those boys in the anime analysis group? You could play their types of bitchiness like the world’s smallest fiddle. They were all so easy to handle (especially Monoma because of his predictability; Todoroki gave you the most trouble due to his complete non sequiturs), and it was fun bouncing off the petty parts of their personalities. Your soulmate spun things differently, but you’d learn his inclinations in time. If not, it’s not worth your time trying to “fix” someone who has no redeeming vulnerability.

You sighed. Now that you’ve lost your editing groove, you might as well do some last-minute reading before watching the next few episodes tonight. Closing your laptop, you reached down into your bag to get the next volume of Todoroki’s manga, and your vision blurred over, dizziness incoming. Well, at least you’re sitting down.

You held the manga volume in your lap and waited for your soulmate’s line of sight to appear. If he were in a darkened room yet again, you could buy yourself a little treat. The café’s display case had some sort of new chess square that you’d been eyeing. And—shit, sunlight was coming through. No little treat for you.

Well, maybe you’ll get one, anyway. You slumped farther down in your seat, blinking as dappled, sunlight-covered pavement and an empty terrace outside a business across a busy street came into view—your soulmate jumped back off the road when a car whooshed by, and after that, he jaywalked, horns blaring in his wake.

He did a little hop to get on the opposite sidewalk, hands in his pockets, and peered past the iron fence into the window of the shop—a packed coffee shop; maybe you could at least learn his coffee order, because then you’d have some shred of information about him. But no, he unlatched the iron gate and wove his way through the cast-iron patio chairs and tables, and—

You’re staring right at you: sitting, legs crossed, not taking up space, stuff spread out over your table, and he’s gaining on you. You flinched, watched yourself flinch, and your gaze darted around until you were able to meet his (your) eyes (your head making minor, nervous movements you wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t seen them), expression cautious, curling in on yourself on impulse. When you saw how, through an outsider, that made you look small, you made the effort to sit up and roll your shoulders back, elbows on the table. You watched yourself recoil at the heat of the iron, and you had to use his perspective to know where your notebook was so that you could rest your arms on it.

He brushed past your table’s open chair, instead yanking the table by the edge away from your lap so that he could stand closer to you and grabbing your face. He first cupped your jaw with his whole hand, pale skin and leather of a fingerless glove cold to the touch, and then, when he seemed sure you weren’t going to protest (his vision turned slightly to the left—he must have tilted his head), he narrowed his grip in little jerks of his hand, sliding erratically from gripping your jaw to just tilting your chin upwards towards him. He turned your head to the left and to the right before returning to centre to stare you down (you’d been pliant under his control, because the doubling of you watching you do things was throwing off your senses of balance and direction).

“Not as hard as you fucking made it out to be, huh?” His thumb rubbed over your chin. His nail was cracked. “Now, are you gonna stop acting like a little bitch, or are we gonna keep playing your stupid game?”

“First of all,” you said, fascinated by the way your lips curled in under your teeth to shape the consonants, and judging by where your soulmate was looking, he was, too. “It’s not an act. I am a little bitch.”

“No more of that hiding shit.” He tapped your cheek a little harder than he needed to with his middle two fingers. “Don’t know why you’d wanna hide this, anyway.”

You wouldn’t’ve said you winced at his rough touch, but you noticed enough of an aggravated microexpression around your eyes that you could tell you didn’t like it. “You’re doing the same. Hiding what you look like from me.”

“And I’m gonna keep doing it. You get nothing. There is no us. Soulmates don’t exist, and even if some hack fraud’s quirk has paired us off, I don’t need anybody, least of all you.”

“Well, maybe you don’t need anyone,” you said, your eyes dipping to see more of his hand (hot damn, we forgot we can’t see through our own eyes that quickly?) and then raising them to look directly into your soulmate’s—hyperaware of the way your eyelashes fluttered against your skin, of the slight pinch of your eyebrows, of the way the sun struck your cheeks, “but you could want someone.”

A sliver of a cool breeze wove its way through the patio, some of your hair swaying with it.

“I won’t pressure you to do anything you don’t want,” you said, lying, “but at the very least, we could communicate enough for this to be easy for us. Please let me give you my phone number, and please save it this time.”

His thumb inched up to press into your lower lip.

“Please,” you said, eyes dark but slightly glassy, letting your tongue tap the tip of his thumb, so lightly wetting it that it was as if you hadn’t touched it at all.

Your soulmate tilted his head again, lurching to the side as he shifted his weight to lean on the table. He knocked your pen onto the ground, and when you made the slightest movement to grab it, he pressed his thumb harder against you to still you, and he shook his head.

Your throat ran dry. Your (his) eyes honed in on the bead of sweat dripping down it and into your blouse. “Give me your name, then. A name, if you hate me that much.”

“It’s Touya,” he grumbled, and he closed his eyes in the moment before he kissed you, cold lips open before even touching yours (both rough, but his lower lip was much rougher for some reason). Blind, you startled back at the initial touch, but he held your chin firmly near his, sliding his gloved hand to your cheek as his tongue did into your mouth, pressing against the roof of your mouth and along your gums, alternating pressure where he pleased, not seeming to care what you did with your tongue—not that you were doing much at all due to surprise, but you at least had the mind to press your lips back, because while yes, his style was unorthodox, it still felt good. He laughed through his nose, once, when you slid your tongue against his, but when you raised a hand to cup his cheek, he pulled away before you could do more than graze him.

“Touya,” you said, and now that he was looking at you again, you—well, you looked kissed out, leaning towards him to chase that feeling, to encourage him to touch you again, and you looked fucking hot (the hell? It took a lot for you to think of yourself that way, and today hadn’t even been a good day for you, but now, freshly kissed, saying your soulmate’s name, you found yourself thinking you were pretty. Uh. Could this be what he was thinking instead of you? You couldn’t tell; it felt like it was coming from somewhere deep in your gut). “Touya. Let me write—”

You watched yourself grapple for your pen for a while. He huffed, crossed his arms, and bothered to look down where your pen was for you, and when he did, you finally grabbed it.

“Touya,” you said, uncapping the pen and hovering over your notebook, and you paused after the first stroke. “Touya spelled like that Todoroki Touya who released that Endeavor video during the war?”

The ink bled through the sheet of paper from being pressed in one spot for too long.

“Yeah,” he said eventually, voice rasping, “Spelled just like his.”

“Okay,” you said, bending over your paper and writing based on muscle memory, and under his name, you wrote your phone number for him again, with your name written beneath it, just to hammer it in. You ripped the page out of your notebook with some difficulty before passing it to him.

Touya scanned it and rubbed his thumb over your name, the leather of his fingerless glove catching on the uneven tear.

Cute. Nerd. “Do the gloves have something to do with your quirk?”

“What? No,” he said, crumpling the paper and stowing it in his pocket, and he kept his hands there, hiding them, “I don’t have a quirk.”

Okay, so Touya spoke in a rush and concealed evidence. Sounds like a lie. Monoma took that route on occasion, so the obvious thing for you to say was “Oh, so you wear them because of Naruto? Do you run like him, too?”

“Fuck off,” he spat, and you watched yourself grin: you’ve got him. “As if I had time to be a fuckin’ otaku.”

“Good to know,” you said, “So, all the manga re-analysis I’ve been doing with my friends is new to you? I hope you’re not planning on reading or watching any of the works that we’re covering, then. Unless you wanted to read along with us?”

“I don’t need that shit to scorch my brain.” For some reason, he winced, scrunching his eyes shut for a moment, and you waited in the dark for him.

“You have enough going on?”

He pried his eyes open, blinking blearily at you, still grinning, still smug. “Yeah,” he said, and he dug his left hand out to stare at the back of it, leather shining in the sunlight while he wiggled his fingers. He bent across the table to grab your coffee, fingers spidering over the rim to grip it, and he brought it to his mouth. “This is fucking awful; what’s wrong with you?” he asked after an audible swallow.

“It’s not my usual order.” Closing your notebook, you crossed your arms, staring down at you and feeling more and more like you’re in a dream. “You can either tell me what your quirk is, because I know you’re lying, or you could stay? For coffee? I’ll buy you something better.”

(You would have asked what’s up with his appearance that he didn’t want you to see or feel, but considering how early in your first official meeting it was, the question may be too insensitive, especially if he were born with it.)

Touya glanced over his shoulder, saw something you couldn’t, and set your mug on the iron table with a quiet clink. “I’ve got to go,” he said, and he spun around, taking the first step away.

You slammed a hand on the table purely on guesswork based on where he left your mug, and the sound of shaking iron and tinkling porcelain resounded, distant when you heard it through his ears, yet feeling the vibrations travel through your own arms. “Tell me your goddamn quirk, you daft fucker.”

Touya paused, and he turned back to you. “That’s more like it.” He sat on your table, at the place over your lap, and he reached out towards your face. You saw yourself lean back, eyes wide, but he simply dug his fingers into your hair at your hairline, scratching your scalp and digging his nails in enough to hear the movement.

(You saw yourself frown the moment you noticed his skin was colder than the glove.)

“Barking at me like that is how information is usually torn out of me. Makes me feel at home,” he said, a bit too cheerfully for your liking, “You can be trained to be a bitch towards me yet.”

“Touya,” you said, raising your head to embolden more of his touch, “Who’s—who’s been treating you like that? You don’t deserve it.”

“Shut up.” Touya laid his hand flat atop your head, the weight of it pushing down on you. “Sure, I lied. Said I didn’t have a quirk. Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters.” Your tongue swiped over your lower lip, and Touya’s gaze darted to it. “I want any scrap of you I can get. Everything I’ve already learnt I’ve filed away in my heart: your name, the way you speak, your hatred of your brother’s fish and living at home—”

The hand on your hand slipped to slap over your mouth. “Jesus Christ, stop noticing things about me. Freak. Goddamn.” Touya lifted his hand off of you, and based on his perspective, he ran it through his own hair. “So that you don’t go making your own intrusive observations, I’ll tell you about my quirk: I effectively don’t have one anymore. I used it a lot, and it fucked me up. So, for my own self-preservation, which I’ve been told I should value, I can’t use it anymore. Good enough for you?”

“Great enough for me,” you said, “I’ll take care not to talk about my quirk or hero course stuff too much. I don’t want you to feel left out.”

“Holy shit,” said Touya, and he broke eye contact with you to stare at his boots (scuffed, black, but new, so the scuffing must be intentional), blinking rapidly before pressing—probably—his thumb and forefinger against his eyelids.

Something was deeply wrong with this man. You needed him to kiss you again. You opened your mouth to ask him to, but wooziness and your dry throat called; the ripped page of your notebook you’d been staring at dripped back into your own perspective at a glacial pace. You heard the scuffle of his shuffling off the iron table and the grit of his boot against the concrete, and when you grappled for him in the dark, your hand clenched around nothing.

You rubbed your eyes until the vertigo passed, and when you opened them, Touya was gone.

***

Later that afternoon, you were scrolling through your phone on the end cushion of one of Todoroki’s couches in the living room in a poor effort not to gawk at everything. You expected some of it could be excused, since it’s your first time at his house, but good God, rich people were insane. This was the biggest, traditionally-styled building (estate?) you’ve been in since you toured a castle preserved from the Edo period—but it was apt, you supposed, since Endeavor had been acting as a sort of daimyo of his own.

Dormer gables. Hip-and-gable roofs, with golden shachihoko shibi cupping the corners—though instead of the customary sea monsters, if your eyes weren’t deceiving you, they appeared to be made for flame-swimming instead of in water. A recessed entryway, its wooden flooring tiles hand-cut in tiny designs to make you aware of the space, with brand-new guest slippers already provided before you could ask. Todoroki’s house (estate?) screamed business, or at the very least, don’t touch anything.

At least the living room in which you sat stiffly had a touch of clear modernity—and so it seemed that the inner rooms actually revealed that they were living in the modern age, but the barrier of traditional architecture to get to actual living space heaved a hyperawareness of outsider onto your shoulders.

Todoroki himself, bless him, moved around like the elegant austerity didn’t even occur to him. Waiting for Midoriya with the rest of you, he’d helped everyone spread out their notes and manga over the short table and floor, gathering blankets for everyone when it occurred to him that not everyone’s body tolerated temperature like he did (since the house was kept oddly cold), and, instead of offering tea, like he’d said his sister would expect him to do, he provided a peculiar but pleasant combination of snacks: cheap-ass cup noodles, strawberry chardonnay-flavoured cheese on soup crackers, old mooncakes that had been in the fridge for a month but he declared were still good, and gummy worms for Monoma.

The bitch even bought everyone a fancy little drink according to personal preferences—and no one had even requested them or informed him what to get, but he’d gotten everything right, regardless (you suspected he’d asked Shinsou for help).

“Thank you,” you said, turning over in your hands the poshest bottle of pink lemonade you’ve ever seen, “You’re a very gracious host, Todoroki.”

He slurped his own caramel frappe. “I’m very excited to have so many friends over at once.”

“Of course,” you said, your weight jostling on the couch cushion as Todoroki sat next to you, “I can’t believe we didn’t think of going off-campus to watch this shit earlier. There’s way more privacy here.”

“Our doors are always open nowadays,” he said, and when Sero tapped Todoroki on his shoulder to help open another package of cheese, he held up a finger to pause your conversation.

Smiling softly, you twisted off the bottlecap of your lemonade, holding it up to your nose to inhale that pressurised burst of lemon scent, and—oh, hey, you felt a little lightheaded as you did so. Two times in one day? That’s new. At least it was from your perspective this time, so you didn’t have to worry about knocking anyone’s drink over.

“Hey,” you said, snuggling down into the couch, your palm atop the opening of your drink (when Monoma shot you a questioning look with the phone call hand signal, you nodded, and he relaxed and leaned towards you, his teeth cutting into his lower lip as he grinned). “Funny how we keep meeting like this, yeah?” you asked, feeling soft and full of love for this fucker, and you reached towards the coffee table to set down your drink and grab a flower-shaped mooncake. “I guess I can stop hiding from my reflection now, sweet boy.” You made eye contact with yourself in the reflection of the Torodokis’ enormous flatscreen, and you held your mooncake up in a toast before biting into it. “Hope you’re well. You seemed stressed earlier. I’m currently—”

Your phone rang in your lap, and you narrowed your eyes at the unknown number before answering it. “Hello?”

“Where the hell are you right now?”

“Wow,” you said, chewing, “No greeting, even? No mention of how much that you miss my voice or my lips now that you’ve—”

“Just tell me where the fuck you are,” said Touya, at the same time that Monoma’s eyebrows shot to his hairline at the kissing implication, and he thumped Shinsou in the chest for him to look up from his phone.

“Does it matter?”

“I told you my quirk shit when I didn’t want to, so fucking tell me,” said Touya, sounding muffled and, again, like he stood near traffic.

Swallowing mooncake in a rush and choking a bit, you cleared your throat and said, “Fine. I don’t know why it matters that much to you, but I’m at a friend’s house. Our anime analysis group has gotten too big for the dorms, so we’re trying out his place.”

You had to ensure the call hadn’t dropped due to his long response time. “What friend?” he asked.

You raised a brow, though he couldn’t see you. “I doubt you would know—shit!”

Struggling to tear the plastic covering the cheese, Todoroki had accidentally slammed his elbow into your collarbone.

“Geez.” You winced at Todoroki and rubbed the spot. “No, no, I’m fine,” you said when he reached towards your collarbone, his fingertips already icing over, “You may want to go get a knife to open that, though.”

Nodding soberly, Todoroki lowered his thawing hand and rose from the couch, tossing the cheese to himself. “I’ll do that. Anyone need anything from the kitchen while I’m up?”

While the others answered, you spoke into your phone again, hand on your chest. “Sorry about that. I guess if you paid attention to the news last year, you’d know him: one of Endeavor’s kids, Todoroki Shouto.”

The soulmate connection started to trickle away, but Touya stayed on the phone. “Do you not have any other friends who have a place?” Plastic crinkled on his end, along with a car horn in the background. “Hell, the library downtown rents out portable TVs—”

“Why should I be at another friend’s house?” Touya wouldn’t be able to see the reflection of your self-satisfied smirk now, but surely he could hear it in your voice. “Jealous that I’m at the house of another man?”

Touya gagged into the speaker. “Someone’s full of herself. Don’t wait up for me,” he said, and he hung up.

You pulled your phone away from your ear, pouting at the call screen before creating a new contact.

“You didn’t tell us you’d met your soulmate,” said Shinsou.

“It only happened this afternoon,” you said, saving his number under Touya 🐠🚷 (the fish for the koi pond he hated, and the no pedestrians sign for his apparent propensity to jaywalk), “and I’m not sure what to make of him. I was hoping to form my own opinion before telling all of you.”

Todoroki perked up and tilted his ear skyward at the sound of the front door opening. “I’ll get it,” he said, standing, “I bet that’s my brother. He’s back four hours late from physical therapy; I hope everything’s okay.”

Your eye twitched.

(Todoroki had warned everyone before coming over that his family would probably be in and out. Less so Fuyumi and Natsuo, because Fuyumi had recently moved in with her significant other and Natsuo had his own place near campus, but more of his parents and Dabi. Well. Touya, now, but you had your own Touya to worry about.

You’d met Dabi. Twice, during freshman year. When he’d been a villain, instead of whatever was happening with him in recovery. Rather formulative experiences for you, ones you only permitted yourself to think about in the hollowness of lonely nights—but you didn’t need those memories anymore, because you had your Touya now.

Remember? You have your own Touya. You don’t need another.)

“Do you want me to carry that for you?”

Todoroki’s voice trailed behind boot scuffing and a sliding door, and in Dabi/Touya shuffled—hoodie yanked up (layered over a longer coat?), strings pulled firmly around his face, plastic bags from the convenience store down the street on his wrist, very determinedly staring at the floor as he strode past behind the couch instead of at the four of you strewn across his living room, ducking into the kitchen as soon as possible.

You’d barely seen him for five seconds, and your heart was going to beat out of your chest. Or maybe that was just the bruise forming on your collarbone.

Todoroki nodded after his brother, standing behind your place at the couch. “There’s no ceremonial introduction, I assume. That’s my brother, Touya. You’ve all,” said Todoroki, scratching the back of his neck, “met him before. But! If you’re nervous, we will not be seeing much of him. He doesn’t spend much time in the main house; he lives in the old-fashioned teahouse towards the back of the garden. Privacy, you know, even though we’ve got to keep him close.” Todoroki wetted his lips as he looked towards the emptied shrine on the far wall. “He shouldn’t be any trouble, but I may have to zip out on occasion to help him. Not all of his skin grafts are taking.”

The doorbell rang, and Todoroki started towards it. “That must be Midoriya. Sero, would you please pull up the next episode?”

When Todoroki stepped into the entryway to greet him, you couldn’t suppress your curiosity. “I’m gonna go pour this over ice,” you said, gesturing with your pink lemonade bottle, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Shinsou—the only one whom you’ve told about what happened with Dabi back then—shot you a crooked grin, but he distracted Monoma from noticing exactly what you were doing while you sneaked away down the hall.

His back was to you. Water flowed out of the kitchen faucet while he yanked his hoodie over his head and tossed it over the back of a chair, and he did the same with a longer, black coat—similar in shape to the coat he’d worn as a villain but not the same one. Maybe he’d grown accustomed to having the weight of it on his body, so what he wore now was a type of security blanket. While he ran a spoon under the faucet, he fumbled behind himself for his plastic, convenience store bag and fished out a pudding cup.

Backtracking a little, you purposely made your footsteps audible so that you wouldn’t startle him, and you entered the kitchen, shaking your lemonade for more noise to alert him of your presence.

His white brows pinched when he saw you, and he hastily shut the water off and scooted off to the edge of the counter while he put his stuff away, his movements rigid and close to his chest.

“Hi,” you said (oh, my God, you were talking to Dabi; holy shit), “Where do the cups live?”

Dabi blinked slowly, unable to look at you, and he peeled the lid off of his pudding cup. He glanced towards the door and back towards his stuff on the table, and he pointed towards a cabinet, his finger returning to his fist in a rush to get back what he was doing.

“Thank you,” you said, opening the one he’d pointed to. Oh. Fancy. Lots of choices. “I hope we’re not bothering you. We can—we can always leave, if you need us to. Or you could join us, if you like.” You turned around in time to see the flat of his tongue lick pudding off of the lid, stitches showing at the back of his tongue, and in the moment where he ducked his head, the tiny, unblemished part of his skin near the corners of his eyes blazing pink, your brain short-circuited.

(Dabi had been your first kiss.

During freshman year, in the week of that first round of internships, you’d been planted in Hosu City, around the time Stain closed his fist around the public consciousness. On a night patrol, your mentor had slipped into a restaurant that the yakuza frequented and stationed you in a nearby alley to watch for other yakuza incoming from the employees’ entrance.

An official sidekick had caught up with you—late forties, spandex, unrecognisable. You’d been terse in your replies, since he’d been essentially blowing your cover, but he couldn’t take a hint.

It’d only occurred to you that he’d been hitting on you when he’d propped an arm on the brick wall above your head to dominate your personal space, and an all-consuming dread had erupted in your stomach when he’d said, moving to take your chin in hand, “You know, you remind me a lot of my daughter.”

Before he’d been able to touch you, something rabid and ravenous about the size of a labrador had tackled him to the ground, the force knocking him almost two whole meters away, and the thing ripped into the sidekick’s chest, blood spewing—and somehow having the sense to cover his mouth to stifle the shouts.

In the moment you’d moved to get a better look at what was, in retrospect, a nomu, another figure had stepped between you and the sidekick, his own arm resting on the wall to keep you from getting closer.

“Hey,” Dabi had said, an easy grin stretching across his face, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about anything. Just testing some shit out for someone. So long as you don’t go making any noise, I’ll let you walk away.”

Dabi hadn’t made his villain debut back then, but even so, it hadn’t seemed like it was just testing something out for someone; this guy had seemed his own brand of dangerous. Your gaze had started to creep towards the source of crunching, but he’d tapped your cheek, making you look at him. “Nuh-uh. Keep your eyes on me. If you don’t know anything, I don’t have to kill you, do I?”

“I, I’m—” You’d steeled yourself somewhat, your hands clenching into fists at your sides. “I’m not just gonna let you kill a hero while I stand here.”

Again, Dabi had stopped you before you could take a full step, this time by gripping your jaw, letting it rest in his palm while his fingers dug into your cheeks. “Can’t call him a hero. Was comparing you to his daughter—didn’t you hear? And it looked like he was gonna assault you. Some guys aren’t meant to be fathers.” His syrupy gaze had fallen to your neck, and he’d squeezed your face. “Jesus, your heart is beating like crazy.”

“I don’t normally calm myself down to the sounds of someone getting maimed,” you’d said, blood splattering in the air behind him, “Oh! Fuck.” You’d scrunched your eyes shut and curled in on yourself, trying to block out the sound of bones snapping.

“Some hero you are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you’d said, “You’re more of one than I am, tonight. Thanks—?”

“Dabi,” he’d said, and at the time, it had just been a name. When you’d pried open your eyes, he’d been smiling, mouth closed, head tilted at being called a hero. You’d smiled back, but at an enormously strident crack from behind him, you’d had a full-body jolt. “Fucking hell, calm down,” he’d said, his arm sliding from the wall to your upper arm, “For once, you’re safe with me.” Seeing you try to look over his shoulder again, Dabi had dragged you forward by the jaw to kiss you, closed-mouthed but hot, leaning into you, his mouth overwhelming you with hardly any effort on his end, and he’d kept kissing you, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand, until the nomu slinked into silence.

Dabi had broken off when the nomu scuttled farther down the alley. “Right.” He’d taken a deep breath. “You gonna tell anyone about me?”

You’d shaken your head, confused as to why he seemed more concerned about descriptions of him rather than descriptions of the murder. But he’d been nice to you. Had given you a hell of a first kiss. “I can say someone in the yakuza killed him.”

He’d roughly patted your cheek and dropped away from you, stowing his hands in the deep pockets of his coat. “His death isn’t worth reporting, but I’ll take it.” He’d spun on his heel, raising a lazy hand in a wave as he disappeared into the night. “You’d better hope you never see me again.”)

And now, here he was, hunched over shitty gas station snacks in his family kitchen, a spoon hanging out of his mouth while he stowed things away. His naturally white hair showed now, and…he seemed terribly shy. Dabi, shy. Fucking ridiculous. But, you supposed, there’s guilt and shame around, uh, doing what he did. And—and his body was horribly, horribly mangled and mottled. He might not think anyone should look at him.

Todoroki (Shouto, you supposed you should think of him as, since Dabi was a Todoroki, too) had mentioned not all of Dabi’s skin grafts were taking. It was obvious. He’d burnt up during the war, and while you’d heard Recovery Girl and Eri had worked on him, despite outside protests that he wasn’t worth it, he still was very clearly cobbled together.

He still had a lot of staples, though faded stitches filled in new gaps, and those that remained had been replaced with medical-grade staples that wouldn’t get infected. Patches of successful grafts left a waning diamond pattern, particularly around his neck. Very little purple, overall, but going by the scars, you could still tell where it had been. Based on his appearance, he shouldn’t be alive, let alone able to walk around.

But he scooted with such speed out of your way when you got ice out of the freezer. “But really, you could stick around with us, if you wanted to. No pressure, though, if you want to be alone.” Calmly. You were calmly popping ice out of a tray and letting them clatter into your glass. “We’re watching Hunter x Hunter right now, if you’re interested. Have you read or watched it before, either the 1999 or 2011 version? Do you have a favourite character?”

Dabi clutched his snacks and discarded clothes to his chest, almost at the door, with his eyes darting all around the kitchen except on you.

Yeah. Must be shy. You were one of the U.A. students who fought in the war, after all, even though you didn’t personally fight him in the end. Probably feels guilty about the whole thing. Shy could be refreshing, after those bitches in the living room and your cunning soulmate.

Finally, tentatively, Dabi shifted his belongings to his right arm, and he raised his left to pat his throat, swallowing so that his Adam’s apple bobbed.

“Oh,” you said, ice melting in your hand, “I’m sorry. Are you on vocal rest? Vocal cords messed up somehow?”

After a moment, Dabi nodded. He edged towards the hallway.

“Okay. I hope you feel better soon,” you said, and you poured your lemonade over the ice. “I’ve kept you long enough. Please go rest; I hope we don’t disturb you further.”

Before you finished, he’d already skibbled off, his house shoes slipping on the wood.

***

(The second time you’d met Dabi hadn’t been as hands-on, but it’d still left an odd impression.

It’d been in an urban jungle-type battle, after knowing his involvement the League but before his backstory reveal, and you and some classmates had been fighting a handful of PLF-aligned villains.

You’d slithered underneath a lean-to created by a partially collapsed building to catch your breath, along with shielding yourself from an explosion Bakugou had been building up. You hadn’t even known Dabi was in the group you were chasing, but he’d slinked underneath the same, protective ruins as you had, barely slipping underneath the cover before Bakugou’s explosion had shaken it.

Dabi had braced himself on the crumbling entrance, scrunching his face away from the explosion, and once it’d stopped, he’d noticed you were barely two paces away from him, sweat dribbling down your face the same as it’d been down his.

You still didn’t know if his startled, constipated expression had been of recognition or simple surprise to see someone else taking cover under something that could collapse and kill them. He’d taken in your U.A. gym uniform—your personal hero costume had been in repairs that week—and there’d been a couple of heavy seconds where neither of you had done anything besides pant and let sweat drip onto the rubble.

He'd slipped out first, since he’d been blocking the entrance, and you’d left soon after. You hadn’t been five steps out of the lean-to before someone on the PLF side had destroyed it, and in the privacy of your heart, you liked to think that Dabi had waited until you were out to raze it.)

***

You made it a habit to call Touya whenever the soulmate bond activated. Though he never initiated a call, he answered most of yours. What else was he going to do, if it were on your side, besides sit there in the dark? He continued to be hold information about himself like a miser clutching coins, but you found it refreshing to have a charismatic grouch of a pseudo-pen pal.

You’d closed the door of a library study room behind you as you called him this time, setting your stack of books on the table.

“You’re finally reading something besides manga? I thought your brain was gonna rot,” he said upon picking up.

You slung the strap of your purse over a chair. “No greeting? No admittance of missing the melodious sound of my voice?”

“Why in the hell would I do that,” he said over the screech of pulling out your chair.

“Because you missed the melodious sound of my voice?” You pulled out your notebook, flipped it to a new page, and fossicked around for a pen. Clicking the one you found, you reached for the first book in your stack, a rudimentary sign language dictionary, and you jotted down a list of common words as they came to you, such as thank you, help, and, of course, the all-important cat.

Touya clicked his tongue. “Are you seriously gonna make me study with you?”

You made the final stroke in the word pudding. “I don’t expect you to absorb the information. If you rather I read manga, I can go to that section for a while. Pick out a shoujo.”

“Get fucked with that otaku shit,” said Touya, and—he must have had his phone on speaker, because a couple of people were speaking to each other nearby about what must be the latest Assassins’ Creed, and the sound changed after some scrapes, with Touya sounding closer. “Why study sign language?”

“There’s someone in my life who recently became unable to talk all of the time,” you said, “and I’d like to help give him some way to communicate.”

“Just text him,” said Touya, “Well—never mind. Who’d wanna text you, anyway?”

“Sometimes, people put away their phones, Touya. Have you heard of it?” You drew a line down the half of your paper to make a new column, one sorting the words in groups—places, family members, requests, and the like.

“What are you getting out of it?” Touya must have scratched somewhere on his face, the sound coming over the phone. “You makin’ fun of him? Making him feel bad? If he wants to talk to you, he can just write shit down.”

“I think he might hate it because of how slow it is. And what if I luck out, and he knows sign already? Then half of my work is done for me,” you said, listing off all of the terms for family members, “Text-to-speech may be okay, but I don’t know. Still slow.”

“He probably doesn’t even want to talk to you,” said Touya, “let alone learn something for you. That’s a lot to ask for someone you ain’t fuckin’.”

You hummed and ignored him. You titled a new column Body, and the first word under it was burns. Followed by healing, surgery, hands, skin, hurt, and rest. For the first time in a while, Touya’s emotions were strong enough for you to feel, but you couldn’t name them. More like some pitiful, fearful soup, if anything, and other stuff you couldn’t put your finger on.

His voice still came in confidently derisive, though. “What kind of fucked up guy are you spreading your legs for, since those are what you’re writing down for his body? Seems like you’d be better off as a cocksleeve for someone else actually capable of fucking you.”

“Oh, rude! Rude!” Scowling, you set down your pen. “That’s rude to both me and him. I’m not talking to you anymore. Enjoy studying, asshole.” You flipped to a random page in the dictionary and started memorising, a bit too pissed to be productive for real, and you kept it up—if Touya were going to be here, then he’s not learning productive sign language, either. Try using marble and mare in everyday conversation, jackass.

Later, you caught yourself zoning out while staring at an entry, only shaking yourself out of it when Touya grumbled under his breath for you to turn the page already.

***

Todoroki paused the episode when the pizza arrived.

Moaning way too sensually, Kaminari stretched his arms above his head and arched his back. “My electricity is cooler than Killua’s, right? I have more swag than him?”

“No.”

“In your dreams.”

“Yikes.”

“Wrong,” said Shinsou, pelting him in the face with a popcorn kernel.

Kaminari picked it up off the floor and ate it mournfully. “I’m getting beaten by a fictional twelve year old.”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” you announced, pushing yourself up from your seat between Shinsou and Monoma (which was just as well, since they were comparing scans of the current manga chapter over your lap), and you set off with the intention going to the farthest bathroom to increase your chances of bumping into Dabi.

No such luck, even though you deliberately stomped your slippers as loudly as you could to try to draw him out. Sighing, you backtracked to a tiny bathroom you’ve used before, one that wasn’t as intimidatingly wealthy as the rest of the house and therefore actually felt like it was meant to be used, and you opened the creaking door onto an exhausted, shirtless Dabi trying to rub some sort of cream on the back of his neck, a massive jar open on the sink, blood seeping down his biceps at the strain around his staples.

Both of you froze. He took a quick glance to the gobs of cream on his hands and managed to kick the door shut from his seat on the closed toilet, but your foot caught in the door, which struck your nose and cheekbone, with you yelping and clutching the area.

“Sorry! I’m sorry,” you said through the crack in the door, shakily dragging your bruised foot out of it, “I didn’t know anyone was even in this side of the house. Are you okay? No, wait, sorry again—you’re bleeding; of course you’re not okay. I’m sorry.” You checked your nose for bleeding of your own, but nothing leaked out of your nose. “Can I—may I help with whatever you’re doing?”

No answer. But he hadn’t shut the door.

“Fine,” you said, and you spoke into the crack, only able to make out the granite on the near side of the sink. “I don’t know what’s going on with you nowadays, but I hope you’re doing okay. Or that you’ll be okay soon, at least. I can’t begin to imagine what you’ve been through, and I’m sorry you had to go through it. But I can grasp, I think, that having a bunch of your brother’s friends over can be intimidating and isolating. If nothing else, I’d like to get to know you better—or you could just get to know me better, if you don’t feel like sharing—so that having all of us over isn’t as terrible. I’m sorry we’re bursting into your life when you’re working out a lot of stuff in recovery—”

Dabi yanked open the door, brow furrowed, and instead of looking at you, he clamped his slimy hands on the sink and stood on his toes to arch towards the mirror, opening his mouth wide to breathe hot air onto it, teeth bared, as if he were roaring. In its fleeting fog, he traced out kanji, streaked with lotion and hidden by his left hand as he wrote, and he blew over it a final time before stepping back and jabbing at the message.

Stop apologising.

“Ah—oh,” you said, while Dabi squatted and rooted through the cabinet under the sink, “Okay. I’ll try. Thank you for saying so.” How do you talk to someone who was formerly 1) an S-tier villain and, more importantly, 2) your longest-running crush?

Dabi plopped a meagre first-aid kit on the counter and pointed to the source of bleeding on one of his arms, the inside bicep where two staples had come loose.

“I don’t know shit about first-aid,” you said, reaching for the kit anyway, “I know you have to keep pressure on it, and stuff, but—”

And so the first time Dabi looked you in the eyes was to shoot you an incredulous, suspicious glare that accompanied his snatching the kit back from you, clutching it out of your reach. Relaxing once it was in his hands, he hesitated a moment, shifting his jaw, before nudging the open jar of lotion with his knuckle, reverting to his fixed gaze on his feet.

“I can do that,” you said, heart racing, “You wanna—why don’t you sit back down?”

Not lotion, you noted, as Dabi pulled out disinfectant wipes and a roll of gauze near its end, burn cream. Aw. You dipped your first three fingers into it (heavy, roll-around slimy, like holding a frog) and hoped to God that your soulmate didn’t tune in during this. Touya didn’t like a lot of things you did, but he’d probably loathe your gawking over the scarred back of someone who wasn’t him.

Yeah, Touya would probably hate how you would hone in, laser-sharp, each time Dabi’s muscles flexed as he wrapped his wound, how the space between his shoulder blades with the tiny dent along his spine (well, his spine indented at the top of his back, where he was broader and still held muscle, and poked out towards his lower back as he bent over) held your focus far too long to be impersonal—and you got to touch it. You kept the contact to your fingertips, because as much as you wanted to flatten your hands to feel every moving tendon, you didn’t want to scare him. He’s probably not used to outside touch, and you shouldn’t come on too strongly, especially when someone else’s soul was fucking bound to yours.

But as your fingers smoothed over the marks around his shoulders where burns used to be, skin cold to the touch, as Dabi turned his head to the side just barely so that he could watch you out of his periphery, you found it hard to remind yourself that you already had a Touya. Can’t have two.

“I know it’s none of my business, but, uh, if you’re on vocal rest this often, I could—I could help you learn some sign language?” You scratched underneath your eye in a nervous gesture and smeared some of the burn cream on your cheek. “Nothing intensive. Only simple, everyday stuff, like—well. I don’t know what frequents your vocabulary. You don’t have to, but I’m offering. Just in case.”

In the mirror, Dabi halted in tying the gauze to glare up at you, his lip curling up in flash of a sneer.

“Okay, that’s cool. That’s fine. I can—I can leave a sign language book with your brother, if you—if you ever change your mind.” You nodded, just to have some sort of reaction he could see, and he tucked away the disinfectant wipes and tossed the empty roll of gauze into the trash bin. “Hey,” you said, noting how he’d only bled at his left arm, which was covered with mottled patches of skin, staples, and stitches, along with the faint diamond-pattern of skin grafts, while his right arm needed no medical attention, pale and unblemished without any sign of damage, “What’s up with—if you’re comfortable with sharing, why doesn’t your right arm have any scars? Was Recovery Girl able to heal that more effectively, or something?”

Holding your gaze in the mirror, Dabi raised his eyebrows, nearly vanishing under the drooping, white spikes of his hair, and he reached over with his left hand to rub his thumb over his right shoulder and curving down into his armpit.

He actually laughed (a laugh through his nose, yes, and one without the humming sort of vocalisation usually accompanying a laugh through a nose, but a laugh nevertheless) at how hard you jumped when he popped off what was apparently a prosthetic.

***

“If you hate gardening this much, why keep doing it?” you asked, once again trapped in Touya’s perspective late at night while he tended to a traditional, Japanese garden. You lay flat on your back in bed, hands and phone resting on your chest (laptop closed to the side. Your essay was due at eight o’clock in the morning. Would Present Mic accept late work due to soulmate interference?).

“Lots of dumb fucking reasons that all fold in together,” said Touya, shovelling gravel out of a wheelbarrow and into the man-made brook he was trying to shape, “One: my stupid fucking family has decided that doing this earthy shit would calm me down. Zen gardening, or whatever.”

“Oh, do you have issues controlling your anger, Touya?”

“Stop that. Two.” Gravel pittered off the shovel blade, falling into the trickling water with a series of tiny plops. “One of my brothers brought up how Mom always liked the garden but was stopped from taking care of it herself, and since I did some shit to—it’s not like I could’ve helped it; they were keeping stuff from her, too. Anyway, Mom’s fucking sad nowadays. Better, but sad.” Touya sank the shovel into the gravel to lean on it, tracking the flow of the water for a moment, twisting through the previous path currently being overtaken by moss and fallen stone. “And my brother thinks the garden being fancy again will make our mom happy, especially if I’m the one to do it. Dick. Saying if we hired people to do it, it wouldn’t be the same. Started with just the damn fish, but now the whole fucking thing’s my job. It’s fucking shit. It’s blackmail and family obligation and rent all at once. It’s a fuckin’ nasty trick.”

Touya dug into the wheelbarrow again. “And my fa—that guy had the nerve to suggest that I needed something to do during the day. As if I’m not busy enough.”

“During the day? Touya, I’ve only seen you garden at night.”

“Because it’s too damn hot outside all the time. And I don’t want anyone watching me. I’m no one’s business. But I bet they’d like staring out of a window at me, while I break my fucking body again moving all of these shitty rocks and shaping Mom’s fucking evergreens.” He shovelled with deep malice. “Did you fucking know that there’s goddamn symbolism in these shitty gardens? That you can’t just put things anywhere without it meaning something? Somehow ponds are supposed to be oceans. Rocks are supposed to be mountains. Forced perspective shit, paired with tenets of Zen and Shinto, and it’s the pettiest, most unnecessary bullshit I’ve ever had to deal with, and I dealt with a friend’s abominable driving for years. Never got any better at it, even though I got fucking motion sick.”

He knelt, and when two, fat glops of Touya’s sweat dripped onto the stone at the impact, you rather enjoyed the gentle wafting about your dorm room at the blades of your ceiling fan.

He must have felt your appreciation. “Stop that. I’m making a point. Look at this shit,” he said, gesturing to the brook and then up at the three-quarter moon, “I’ve gotta change the course of the water, because it’s better to face towards the moon to capture its reflection, and I’ve gotta make it somehow cascade or waterfall at some point over there.” He pointed far across the garden towards a flickering pair of stone lanterns. “How am I supposed to do that? I can’t even make it flow through gravel right. I might have to move some of the stepping stones again. I fucking hate those things. They’re too heavy for one person, and I’ve already had to rearrange them because some of them weren’t fucking weathered or natural-looking enough.”

“Sure. Death to aesthetics,” you said, blindly feeling around for a pack of gum you kept in your bedside table, “I’d come help you if I could, but somebody—”

“You’re not getting a location out of me, princess.”

You paused, hand on the knob of the first drawer, and a wide, smug smile broke across your face (Princess, Touya? You’re gonna call me princess? You sure you don’t care about me?).

“Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything!”

“I could feel it,” said Touya, flexing his fingers on his knees, “so shut up.”

Gloved hands clenched into fists, he glared at the brook, the gravel, up at the moon, and back into the water.

“You know, it looks like if you moved most of the gravel to one side, the water might flow the direction you need it to.”

“Who’s the one busting their ass here, me or you?” But he plunged his hands into the water, grabbed heaping fistfuls of rocks, and patted them onto the far side of the stone bed.

“Touya,” you said, feeling around in your drawer for the pack of gum, “Take your gloves off! You’re gonna ruin the leather.”

“Like I care.” He dragged more gravel underwater. “If I took ’em off, you’d see my hands.”

“Come off of it, Touya. I bet they’re perfectly fine,” you said, successfully grabbing gum and sliding your drawer shut, “Hands are often the most attractive part of a man.”

He paused, water flowing around his arms up to his elbows (he wouldn’t roll up his sleeves, either. Stubborn boy. He must hate whatever’s going on with him). “Not the dick?” He sounded like he was grinning.

“Not always. Some of them look like sad, sea creatures,” you said, unwrapping your gum into your phone’s speaker to annoy him, “It takes talent to have a pretty cock. Hands, however, can easily be lusted over because of what they’re capable of. Or what you know they’ve done.”

(Hee hoo hah, like burn down a city. You’re so normal about it.)

“Not how they look?”

“Appearance can help, but it’s not the whole cow,” you said, chewing while the flavour faded fast.

Touya scoffed, his fingers sinking into gravel. “You makin’ fun of me?”

What? “Of course not. Why?”

“Don’t say shit like that to get on my good side. I’m more than aware I ain’t got anything besides my shitty personality goin’ for me.” He cleared his throat. “That sign language guy got anything I don’t?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You sure seem obsessed with him,” said Touya, leaning more deeply into the water, soaking his hoodie even more, “even though he sounds pathetic. You tryin’ to fix him to make yourself look good?”

“Of course not. I know no one can fix anyone else. He has to choose to do that himself,” you said, “Not that there’s anything about him that merits fixing.”

Laughing (oh? hot), Touya scooped a handful of gravel out of the wheelbarrow to add it to the far side. “Yeah, you’re fucking obsessed with him. Am I not your soulmate?”

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn’t see it (and…you…couldn’t see it). “You haven’t given me anything to obsess over, unless you want me to research gardening tips or how to breed carp.”

“I would love for you to be obsessed with breeding, sweet—”

“Oh, my God, you have to ease into that sort of thing, Touya.”

He pulled his hands out of the brook, drenched sleeves gushing water back into it. “D’you want me to start with how much I wanna suck on your perfect tits?”

“Touya,” you said carefully, shoving the gum to one cheek, “Is everything okay? You’re acting—strange.”

“What do you—”

“Where’s the blind hatred for me? Where’s the disdain?”

Sitting back on his knees, Touya shoved his leather-wet-dripping hands into the damp, double pocket of his hoodie with a muted slosh. “You think I hate you?”

“You’re that rude to people you don’t hate?”

Water seeped through the pocket and through his jeans, visibly darker in the moonlight and soaking his thighs. “Fuck off. I mean—what I mean is that I’m not used to people like you. Who don’t talk like me. Who aren’t mean to me back. Or who don’t seem to want anything from me. Didn’t know you really thought I was rude.”

You screwed up your face. “Who have you been hanging out with? What the hell is wrong with you? Spend time with people who like you, please?”

“No one likes me—”

“Get your head out of your ass, edgelord,” you said, sitting up in bed and holding the phone up to your mouth, “Newsflash, dipshit, it sounds like lots of people like you. Your brother, who wants to help you make your mom happy, in an easy, physical way that you’re more than capable of. Your mom, who sounds like she’s happier now that you’re back in her life. The rest of your goddamn family, who want you close by so that they can help you if you ever fucking accepted it. Your stupid friends who are into Assassins’ Creed.”

“Stop fucking noticing things about—”

“And me. I like you, dipshit. Get over yourself. You’re digging yourself your own lonely, self-deprecating hole, where I guess you’re at your most comfortable. But tonight alone you’ve shown in your garden that you fucking hate digging holes. They mean unnecessary work.”

Inhaling sharply, you threw your phone into the bedspread, but all that came through was a distant deer scare, bamboo hitting rock.

“Since when do you like me?” he asked, pushing on his knees to stand.

The artificial-yellow light from your lamp starting creeping in around the rim of your vision, blotting out parts of Touya’s silhouette in the moonlight. “I talk to you, don’t I? I wouldn’t even acknowledge the bond if I weren’t open to—we’ve been hanging out. You didn’t know?”

“Like I would know what that looks like,” said Touya, the walls of your room coming into view while Touya pulled his own phone out of his inner pocket, tapping the screen to see how long the call has lasted, “Like I would know how someone like you would behave when they like me.”

“Stay on the goddamn phone,” you said in the moment his thumb hovered over the end call button, the last thing you made out before fully sinking back into your dorm room, “If you don’t know what I—well, what does your love look like, Touya? What do you do when you like someone?”

“Sexually? Romantically?”

“Not necessarily,” you said, pissed to have the connection severed and sliding off of the bed to turn off the lights, “Just when you care for someone at all.”

“Gimme a minute,” came Touya’s voice, and after you flipped the lights and the ceiling fan off, you wandered over to your window, switched your phone off speaker, and held it to your ear as you stared up at the same moon Touya was under, and you waited.

“Right, I don’t know for sure,” he said after a while (but it sounded like he’d stopped dealing with the gravel to think about it), “but this is the only thing that’s coming to mind. Before I was living at home again, me and some friends didn’t have consistent sources of food. Don’t interrupt to say you’re sorry. But. So, whenever I’d, uh, buy stuff. From a store. I’d make sure I got some sort of snack for whoever I was with, even though we were all too proud to ask for shit. Didn’t really think about doing it on purpose. But I guess I did.”

“You are deliciously, delightfully, tender as fuck,” you said, clenching a fist over your heart, your boob jostling with the fervent impact (and it pleased you knowing that Touya would’ve laughed if he’d seen), and you kept talking over his sounds of disapproval. “And I am gonna cook for you. I am going to set you a table so vast that you’re gonna be eating off it for a long, long time. You’re never gonna be fucking hungry ever again, Touya.”

When he didn’t answer, you worried you said the wrong thing, but you stayed on the line, listening. Two minutes later, he hung up, and you could have sworn he cut off in the middle of a wet sniffle.

***

What can you cook? What were you good at cooking that actually constituted a filling meal?

Start small, you supposed.

Fuyumi kept the Todoroki kitchen much more well-stocked than the kitchen to which you had access, and so, with welcome permission, you headed over to the estate earlier than the scheduled viewing time to prepare, with Shinsou and Todoroki hanging out in the kitchen with you.

“Jirou says she can attend,” said Todoroki, thumb swiping across his phone screen, “Turns out her tipping point was stating the merits of studying Melody’s music powers. She’s asking if Yaoyorozu may attend as well?”

“It’s your house.” Shinsou was folding his napkin into an origami frog. “If there’s a need for excuses, you can always say Yao might like—I forget his name, but he’s that character in the Phantom Troupe whose hair looks like a mop? She might like analysing how his power lets him copy anything, even though it doesn’t have the same limitations like her quirk.”

“I will mention that,” said Todoroki, nodding sagely.

The plan was simple: with a captive audience of anime nerds, you could get feedback on your cooking until it was good enough for Touya (a small part of you still cringed thinking about how he reacted to your potato wedges). You would lure your friends into a state of complacency with your smaller dishes—baked goods, and the like—until there was no escape when you served them something more filling, like soups.

Today, you were making teeny little lemon ricotta pancakes (the recipe called for them to be regular-sized, but if you made them around the size of a potato chip, it would be more accessible to eat with fingers in the living room) that gave you the air of being fancy but were actually mindless to make, it turned out, and right now, you were stirring the stewing blueberry syrup that you’d decided would be a dipping sauce rather than drizzled over—the Todorokis had an excess of white furniture, and you would like to be invited to use their kitchen again.

“I think,” you said, once the syrup was behaving like syrup when you let it dribble out of the ladle back into the pot, “I’m gonna take some to your brother. I don’t want him feeling left out, if he comes through. He’s home right now, yeah?”

“He’s in his teahouse. It’s towards the back of the garden.” Todoroki got up from the table. “Do you want me to show you?”

“I’m sure I can find it, since it’s the only building not connected to the main one,” you said, but you did accept his help finding a tray and sauce cup for the syrup, and once it was set, you picked up the tray and strode with purpose towards the garden.

Walking through its seemingly-natural landscape while balancing food and liquids proved to be miraculously easy. Their hired gardeners must be doing insane upkeep to ensure its deliberate, natural-but-not cosiness. You made a mental note to ask Touya what some of the structures symbolised, like the recurring patterns of three rocks of different heights close together. He’d know, reluctantly, since he did stuff like this, and you considered his work to be superior to this, anyway.

In the blistering sun, you had to narrow your eyes to slits, regretting that both of your hands were full so that you couldn’t shield them from the light, and you found a gated, stone path to the teahouse. Clearly, it had once been slightly dilapidated but had since been worked on; another room had been latched on to the side to double its size, judging by the change in architecture styles, and the roof reflected sunlight a little too well for its polished, stone tiles to be less than a year old.

Bracing the tray, you took the steep step onto the neatly swept, bamboo engawa running around the edge of the teahouse, and you—was the door around to the side? Around the left side of the original part of the tearoom, two shoji panels had been spread to let in sunlight upon an empty room with an actual fucking sunken hearth, unlit, with one of the same fire-fish as on the estate’s roofs for the crank’s lever. Behind what would have been the seat of honour stood a dishevelled tokonoma, devoid of scrolls or incense burners but instead housing an unzipped backpack atop a long coat, its sleeves trailing onto the floor outside the tokonoma, with sticky notes taped to its inner wall. A red-tinted wood dresser had been pushed into the corner, tissues and hand sanitiser atop it and a single stack of books propped next to it.

A pair of boots was tucked inside the open shoji. Maybe he’s asleep.

At your first step inside, you jolted so hard you had to struggle to hold onto the tray—the floor had chirped at you. Dead ringer for a bird call. Tentatively, you took another step, and it chirped again, this time with a bit of a wheeze, more artificial-sounding.

You jumped and stumbled again at another wall sliding open, giving the impression that a flock of birds had flown inside, and Dabi poked his head through the gap (you could make out the gleaming pause screen of a gaming system in the newer room behind him). His face had relaxed when he’d seen it was you, but it pinched into a strange, unnameable expression when he saw what you were carrying.

“Hi,” you said, holding out the tray, “I’ve made too many snacks for the anime group today, so I thought you might like some? I can take it away, if you don’t want any.”

Since he probably didn’t know the amount of people attending nowadays, he probably didn’t recognise your lie. Dabi held up a finger for you to wait while he exhumed a short table and two floor seats from storage in the walls, and he waited for you to sit before he did, slowly, crossing his legs on the cushion, his joints creaking.

“They’re little lemon ricotta pancakes. Todo—Shouto told me you didn’t have any food allergies, so it should be fine. That’s blueberry syrup,” you said when he pointed at it. “I’m—I guess you could say I’m practising recipes for cooking for someone else. If you don’t like it, please let me know. I’ll make it better next time.”

Dabi fiddled with two of the tiny pancakes before selecting one, inspecting it in the sunlight, and dipping it into the syrup (you went a little crazy when it dripped onto his tongue stitches, but you managed to suppress it). As he chewed and swallowed loudly, Dabi’s eyes bulged, brow furrowed, and he, panicked, fumbled around for probably his phone, patting the pockets on his jeans. Hands pausing after slapping the empty pockets on his ass, he sprung up, grabbed a pen off of the dresser, and snatched a sticky note off of the inner wall of the tokonoma. He returned to the table and knelt half on the seat, scribbling furiously, and when he pushed the sticky note to you, under a crossed-out potting soil, sledgehammer, he’d written fuck you marry me NOW.

There’s a moment in which you forgot, a moment in which you laugh, head tilted back, flooded with endorphins at your long-time, pseudo-celebrity crush liking something you made to even joke about being in a relationship with you. You opened your mouth to make some joke about how you’d like to go on a few dates first, to have some sort of courtship, but you stopped at the first word: “Touya.” You cut yourself off, brow pinched. You can’t have two.

Not that…not that Dabi/Touya could ever genuinely like you, who fought against him and now witnessed his debasement, but in the far-flung chance that he could, you should clarify about your Touya.

“Touya,” you said again, this time sober and grim, hands folded on your lap, “I know you were only joking, but I was in a quirk-related incident a while ago, and it assigned me a soulmate. So, even if you could like me, I’ve got someone waiting. Presumptuous of me to say, I know, but. I want to treat you with kindness and not make you wonder, in the case it arises. Funnily enough, his name is Touya, too—”

Your phone rang loudly in your back pocket (you kept it on loud nowadays so you could easily feel around for Touya’s call, but it’d led you to awkward moments like this, too). Dabi scowled when you brought it out to silence it and dipped another pancake in the syrup, letting it absorb what it could to tinge it purple.

“It’s him, actually. Odd timing.” Lying flat in your palm, your phone flashed an incoming call from Touya. Leaning across the table, Dabi grabbed it out of your hands to answer it, put it on speaker, and lay it in the centre of the table while he ate his soggy pancake, shaking his head when you moved to undo all of that.

“Hey,” came a tinny, raspy voice that was very much not your Touya’s, “You’re the soulmate, right?”

Dabi shouldn’t have to hear this. Before you could tap the speaker button again, Dabi swatted your hand out of the way, gesturing for you to answer.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, shifting in your seat, “Who are you? Where’s—”

“Tell Touya he left his phone at my place the next time you see through him.” A repetitive, techno instrumental played in the background (video game music?). “At Shiiiiiiiimura’s place. Yeah.”

“I can do that, Shimura,” you said, unsure if you should hold out the vowel as long as he did, and perhaps you can take advantage of the situation for a brief moment, because Dabi was staring at your phone with a constipated sort of expression as he listened. “I can’t control when the bond activates, but I’ll let him know. Do you know what sort of food he likes?”

Shimura barked out a laugh, filling the room in a wide, cleansing way you wouldn’t expect from someone with his scratchy voice. “I heard your potato wedges are shit.”

You sputtered, “He didn’t even have any—”

Dabi ended the call, frowning, shaking his head, and tipping your phone off the table to gently bounce twice when it hit the tatami. He held up a tiny pancake and made a show of looking at it, at you, and back at it, and he shot you an aggressive thumbs-up.

***

Uraraka spent an entire patrol gushing about how she would fuck the author of Hunter x Hunter if she could, so she showed up to the next get-together, along with Asui, whom everyone already thought would be friends with the story’s protagonist if he were real. When you Aoyama caught you in the act of stealing one of his posh cookbooks, you explained the situation to him, and so he tagged along to taste what you were cooking, along with supplying some of the fancier ingredients you wouldn’t’ve known how to obtain. Then you’d asked Sato for advice on how to make the swirl in a strawberry swirl loaf not go to shit, and then the group had spent a few hours discussing the good relationships with animals that Hunters are inherently supposed to have, so Kouda was summoned for his opinions.

The long of short of it was that there were many more spectators than necessary to when Dabi strode into the viewing room, drenched in sweat from his walk back home, to pelt the back of your head with a two-pack of Sakeru cheese. As you rubbed the back of your head, pulling the cold plastic from between your shirt collar and skin, he at least had the decency to drop the single-wrapped fish bread into your lap.

“Hey, Touya,” you said, grabbing his hand before he could skitter away as usual (his wide eyes couldn’t decide to look at both of your hands or at your face), “I’ve set aside slices of both strawberry swirl bread and garlic bread for you in the kitchen. I recommend heating the garlic bread up so the cheese gets all melty again, but it’s good at room temperature, too. Thank you, by the way. For these.”

Nodding hastily, Dabi tore his hand away from your in two, spasming jerks, and he slithered into the kitchen.

Though the rest were watching the show, Shinsou was turned towards you, his head tilted with an incredulous sort of smile. You stuck your tongue out at him and crinkled open the cheese.

Dabi returned with both slices on a paper towel and stood behind you at the couch for a minute, watching the episode. Shifting his weight, he pulled out his phone. “This is garbage,” came a droning, text-to-speech voice from behind.

He stood behind the couch for three more episodes.

***

Through another moonlit, soulmate connection, Touya was failing to prod stray ducks out of the koi pond with the skimmer.

“They’re tenacious little bastards,” you said, sitting on the counter of the dorm kitchen and praying to God that the oven timer wouldn’t go off while you couldn’t see.

“Why. Won’t they. Move.” Touya nudged a duck with the flat of the skimmer, its width as long as the entire duck, and the duck kept gabbing to its friends. “I have no idea if ducks upset the chemical balance of the water enough to kill koi; I’ve never seen them in here before ten minutes ago. Goddamn.” He waved the skimmer over the water’s surface, filtering some debris, and he flipped it onto a duck, who remained vexingly apathetic at the new source of wet. “Tonight was gonna be easy; I was only gonna put up windchimes; I was gonna get to go to bed early. Now I—no, no, no, don’t—!”

One duck bit at the skimmer net, and having pierced it, the duck led the rest of them to the centre of the pond, where the skimmer couldn’t reach, no matter how Touya strained.

“I fucking hate birds,” said Touya, slamming the skimmer on the ground, “and I fucking hate fish. They’re not even good when they’re alive.” Seeming to have a change of heart, Touya picked the skimmer up and took care to lean it against the stone wall of the pond. “Tell me something good, won’t you?”

Does that imply you don’t have to work on any fish dishes? “You’ll be thrilled to hear that my little anime analysis group is almost through the Hunter x Hunter anime, probably. We got to the end of the 1999 version last night.”

Touya sat and splayed his legs on the koi pond stone, watching the moon’s reflection ripple as koi tails broke surface tension. “That’ll only make your process more streamlined, since you’re not watching two episodes covering the same chapters in conjunction anymore. The Chimera Ant arc takes forever, though. You’re not almost done.”

Groping around for your oven mitts, you smiled. “How do you know that, Touya? Thought you hated—”

“What are you going to watch next?”

Stupid boy. Shy boy. “Well, Sero is pushing for Pokémon since there’s so much of it.”

“God, no,” said Touya, leaning back on his hands, “Iconic, yeah. Fun, not really, because in the games, you’re the one getting to battle and bond with the things. It’s not fun to watch someone else get to do it.”

“I can rely on you for negative reviews of everything.” Oven mitt? Oven mitt. Now, where’s its pair? “You want a pokémon, Touya? Which ones?”

“You are such a fucking child—”

“You want a pikachu, don’t you?”

“Hell, no,” Touya spat, “None of that cliché shit. Pikachu isn’t even that good. I—” Cutting himself off, he hunched forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his gloved hands together. “You’ll shit on me for it. Forget I said anything.”

“Should I let you make fun of me first?” You slipped on the other mitt. “I’m cliché as hell. My top choice is either a certain starter or an eevolution.”

“No, I—”

“All right. How about you tell me your favourite as a kid and the one you would choose now?”

“You’re pushy as hell. When I was a kid, I wanted a Ninetales. I was—my mom had read enough for me to know about traditional kitsune,” said Touya, and he ducked his head to stare between his legs (crotch unfortunately hidden in shadow), “and Ninetales is immune to fire. It can use it and not burn up, and it’s not affected by outside fire attacks.”

The memory of rubbing burn cream across Dabi’s shoulders and how delicate his skin looked surfaced. You wouldn’t wish that on anyone. “You scared of being burned, Touya?”

Touya kicked the stone beneath his boot, scuffing it. “Just seems like it’d be neat.”

“Perfectly reasonable,” you said, wrapping your muppet-y, mitted hands around the oven handle in preparation for whenever it would go off, “and a perfectly logical pokémon to latch onto. It’s fairly popular. I don’t see how I’m supposed to make fun of you for that.”

“Sure.” Touya bent farther to re-tie his bootlaces. “I like my current choice for a dumb as hell reason, though. Shiiiiiiiimura,” said Touya, yanking the laces tightly (and he dragged out Shimura’s name, too. Was that the proper pronunciation?), “was trying to hype us up for something stupid we had to do that some of our friends were scared of. Shimura’s teacher—’scuse me, abusive fucking manipulative shithead of an adoptive father—wanted him to make a speech to show leadership, or some bullshit. Instead, Shimura pulled out his phone and showed us someone’s video of playing one of the early Pokémon games, for the battle at the end to win the game. And to defeat the last boss’s toughest Dragonite, the player used this…this fuckin’ weak-ass, all-around insignificant pokémon picked up from the beginning of the game, and it fuckin’ won. It won against the toughest opponent, and—and Shimura was saying, oh, the Venomoth is us, and we can win against our big-ass enemy, oh, ho, ho—”

“Excuse me. A Venomoth? You only use them temporarily at the beginning of the game, when you don’t have anything cool yet. They fucking suck.”

“See, you’re making fun of me. I’m not going to say anything else.” Touya leant back on his hands again, this time crossing his legs to prop his ankle on his opposite knee.

“No, I’m—I’m sorry. Sorry. First impressions. But you’re convincing me. Go on. I’m listening.”

Touya flicked water towards the ducks. “Are you gonna keep insulting—”

“I won’t! I won’t,” you said, sliding off the kitchen counter to stand directly in front of the oven, “So, Venomoths. I hear they’re fantastic.”

Touya rolled his eyes, and it was cute, you thought, how you had to follow the motion, seeing the moon at the upwards roll and back at its reflection in the pond. “Yeah. I bet Shimura’s forgotten all about it, but it stuck with me. Not immediately—at the time it was stupid, and to be fair, it’s still stupid. But now that I’m back here, living at home, it’s—it’s stupid. It’s, like, if that stupid fucking bug can defeat a goddamn dragon, then I can tend the garden. I can keep that stupid tsukubai clean. I can hang out with my brother. I can fucking—” He cut himself off again, this time striking the water hard enough to splash one of the ducks (it quacked at him with disdain and simply swam a couple of centimetres away).

“Do what, Touya?” The oven timer started beeping, and you tensed. “Hold on; don’t say anything. Don’t say—I have to concentrate; I’m getting stuff out of an oven.”

Touya stirred the pondwater with his ring and middle fingers while you blindly approximated the logistics of getting the tray out of the oven, and by standing at the oven’s side inside of reaching into it from the front, you were eventually able to remove the tray and rest it on the counter above it—you’re not going to bother feeling around for the pot holders.

When you sighed in relief once you’d closed the oven again, Touya asked, “What are you cooking?”

“Strawberry cheesecake muffins,” you said, frowning in the tray’s general direction, “They’re supposed to have a marbling effect, and I’m supposed to be putting on some sort of streusel-type sugar on top right now, but I’m not gonna risk it. I hope they’re done. You have to trust the recipe’s bake time with cheesecakes exactly, so I’m hoping it’s the same for—”

“I am gonna make you come so hard,” Touya was saying in a strained sort of way as he ran his hands down his face, “I am gonna fuck you so hard that you leave in a permanent dent in my mattress. I am gonna hold you and kiss the back of your neck and make you cry out as you gush around my fingers. You’re—you’re so fucking per—I am gonna take care of you back.”

“Cool.” Right, so bake the muffins again at some point. “Do you have any food allergies?”

“I’m allergic to you not saying anything hot in response to what I just said.”

Sure, Touya. “I’m also gonna make you this really sexy tomato soup with what the recipe calls a grilled cheese top. It’s got cheesy bread cut into chunks that coat the surface so that you can’t even see the red, and it melts into the soup—”

“Stop, I can only get so hard—”

“Show me your cock, then.”

“No,” said Touya, deliberately looking at a trio of fish convening near the pond’s surface, their o-shaped mouths blorbing and blobbing underneath the water towards Touya’s waving fingers, “I meant—well, first, you are gonna make that soup, pl—please—but I meant that—I mean.” He twirled his finger under the water, and the koi were fascinated. One of them kissed his finger. You were feeling a similar impulse—and perhaps that’s what prompted Touya to continue. “I came the first time someone stuck their tongue in my mouth.”

It occurred to you that anyone could be walking by the dorm kitchen to overhear. Now that the muffins were out of the oven, you elected to turn off the speaker setting to hold you phone to your ear. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I was sixteen and insane with hormones, and it hadn’t been long since I’d woken up from—well. When someone kissed me with tongue for the first time, I came in my pants. Taken completely by surprise that someone was even kissing me, that someone could even want me when I look like—and then that. We were outside, on a public bridge, during the day. I haven’t seen that fucker since.”

You had been contemplating whether it’d be worth fumbling around for a knife to ease the muffins out of the tray, but all cogs stopped at Touya’s story. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you’ll tell me something back. I already told you some embarrassing shit about pokémon and shit, so you have to embarrass yourself back. You’re the one who brought up cocks, anyway. So—so you have to share something back,” said Touya, allowing a fish to rub up against his hand in a pseudo-sort of petting it, “Something about when you were young and stupid.”

“And preferably sexual, right? I know what you’re about, you shy, baby boy.”

“Ffffffuck that.I ain’t shy—”

“You won’t show me your face, Touya. You’re scared for me to see it. Shy boy.”

Touya scratched along the side of the koi like it wanted, and another nudged the back of his hand to be scratched, too. “Fuck off.”

“I’ve only told one other person about my first kiss,” you said, moving to sit on the counter again, “Wanna hear that story?”

“Fine,” said Touya, and he pulled his hand out of the pond, flicking water off his fingers and into the open, mournful mouths of the koi he’d been petting. “You had better be about to tell me about seeing through me at that coffee shop.”

“Come off of it, Touya; isn’t it better for me to have outside experience and still choose you regardless? My first kiss was way before that,” you said, hoping how pleased you were at his mild possessiveness was being transferred to his side of the bond, “and I didn’t even know the guy’s name at the time. And it was—it could’ve turned really bad, really quickly. Because my first kiss was with Dabi, before he made his villain debut.”

“Do—huh?” Touya shook his head, causing you to wince and steady yourself at the dizziness. “Beg pardon? Beg your fucking pardon? I didn’t—know that that Dabi guy went around kissing people.”

“He did at least once. It was back in freshman year, and I was out at night during my hero internship.” Getting comfortable on the kitchen counter, you crossed your legs and leant against the cabinets to support your back, exhaustion kicking in. “Some older sidekick hit on me in what was an exceedingly creepy way—he made it pseudo-incestuous by saying I reminded him of his daughter. In retrospect, the interaction could have gone much, much worse, if Dabi hadn’t inadvertently rescued me—scratch that, it may have been intentional, looking back, because he’d said stuff about the sidekick being a shitty father, and now he’s, uh, let us know about his own dad.”

It took Touya a moment. At least he wasn’t shaking his head anymore. “Are you saying Dabi burnt some guy to death in front of you, and you still kissed him?”

You sucked in through your teeth. “Not exactly. I didn’t know it at the time, but he was testing out a nomu, and that ripped the other guy to pieces. And—this is gonna sound wild—I think Dabi may have kissed me to comfort me? I know it was a distraction from the gore and from getting a good look at the nomu, but I think he may have also done it to calm me down. It was—oddly sweet.”

Touya gripped the edge of the stone wall, his fingers dipping into water (but not deep enough to remoisten his leather gloves) and koi swarming. “What did the nomu look like?”

Even though you couldn’t see it, you held your phone away from your ear for a second to shoot it an incredulous look. “Wha—Touya, weren’t you going to ask if he were a good kisser, or something?”

His knuckles popped when he clenched his fingers and asked flatly, “Was he a good—”

“You’re better.”

“Thanks,” he said, not sounding like he cared about that at all, letting a koi drag his hand into the water by biting his finger, “What did the nomu look like?”

“God, I don’t fucking know. That wasn’t important to me. I, uh—it was around the size of a good-sized dog, like a golden retriever or a lab. I don’t—I guess it walked on all fours,” you said, wondering why the fuck—oh, the dizziness must not have come only from Touya shaking his head, because it’s sweeping over you again, waves emanating from the bond. “Now that I’ve seen other nomu, I can recognise that its head looked whacky because its brain was exposed, and I think its skin was more green-tinged than the others who had that navy-black colour going on. Honestly, Touya, I wasn’t—”

Through the phone came such a strident, alarming crack that you halted mid-sentence to listen for it again. It’d come from Touya’s side, clearly, but nothing in his line of vision betrayed its source, although—and you would not have noticed this if you hadn’t been scanning his environment for any hint—something that looked like split glass frosted the inside of Touya’s fist before he unclenched his hand a second later, any illusion of something there melting into the water.

But something was wrong. “Touya?”

“You still see that Dabi guy when you watch anime at Shouto’s house, yeah? Stay on the line,” he said, darkness of the bond fading drabbling at the edges of his vision from your perspective.

“I am,” you said, uncrossing your legs, “I do.”

“What do you think of him? Ugly fucker, isn’t he?” Touya fell still as a duck approached him as it navigated through the water lilies, and Touya’s outstretching his hand to its head was the last thing you saw before the bond gave out. “Still as pathetic as he was in the war? Think he should be in prison?”

“Negative reviews of people, negative reviews of television, negative reviews of potato wedges—so cool, bro. Now say something true and beautiful.”

“Answer me, damn it.” A disgruntled quack.

“You’d better not be strangling that duck.”

“You think so little of me? Do you want me to put the duck on the phone?”

“I don’t think it could sit comfortably,” you said, pushing yourself off the counter and walking to the knife drawer now that you could see, “I see Dabi every once in a while when I’m at Todoroki’s house. He’s shy. I don’t mind. It’s not my place to assume anything, but. I don’t think he’s doing okay, since it seems like he’s spent a good part of his life wanting someone to look at him, to pay attention, and now he’s getting that in a way he probably didn’t anticipate, and I want him to be okay. I think I’d like to help him get there, if he’d let me. But I know I’m nobody important to him, and that’s fine.”

“Sounds a lot like pity,” said Touya, and when you made a noise of protest, he kept going. “Or maybe you’re fucked up enough that you like him? From when he kissed you?”

You couldn’t exactly tell your soulmate that you’ve been suppressing naïve, celebrity-crush-type feelings for someone else. “Well,” you said, grimacing as you slid knife edge between a muffin and the tray and started to remove it, “He’s very babygirl-coded.”

***

TOUYA 🐠🚷

looked it up. definition of babygirl does NOT help

TOUYA 🐠🚷

incidentally

TOUYA 🐠🚷

what should a guy wear to impress someone

YOU

a guy? or you specifically?

YOU

because i am, of course about to suggest the golden standard of rolling up thy sleeves to thy elbows, but you won’t even showing your fucken hands asldkjfa;

TOUYA 🐠🚷

gloves necessary.

TOUYA 🐠🚷

but think formal. formal setting.

YOU

why are YOU going to a formal event?

TOUYA 🐠🚷

have to. blackmail/family obligation/rent.

TOUYA 🐠🚷

open to suggestions. about style more than brand, because if I go too expensive, my dad will think I’m making him pay a lot as sabotage.

YOU

and here i was about to recommend that you go skinny-dipping in a vat of liquid gold

TOUYA 🐠🚷

you just wanna see my cock, don’t cha

YOU

what makes you think I’D be invited to some shitty formal event

TOUYA 🐠🚷

I’m betting you’d hear about it on the news

YOU

i think i’d be more interested in what food is provided

TOUYA 🐠🚷

…

TOUYA 🐠🚷

no, I shan’t say

YOU

is this a cum joke

TOUYA 🐠🚷

but seriously. what should I wear. assume I will do something awful and evil and that you will see the outfit on the news when I get arrested.

YOU

touya, how would i recognise you. idk what YOU even look like. not that it matters, i guess. all that matters is that you wear something that fits you well. you don’t need to impress me; you’ve already won me over

TOUYA 🐠🚷

i what

TOUYA 🐠🚷

wait what do you MEAN it doesn’t matter

YOU

does it help get it through your thick head if i tell you that you are also babygirl-coded? perhaps not even coded but genuinely babygirl??

TOUYA 🐠🚷

it does not.

***

Adjusting your lace shawl, you gripped Shouto’s arm as the both of you furtively sneaked away from the hordes of pro-heroes, industry workers, and flashing press to slink back to the enormous table of hors d'oeuvres to see how many of them you could pack into your purse and his strategically planned inner coat pocket, sewn into the inside of his lapel for the occasion.

When Shouto had invited you to this ghastly awards ceremony for Endeavor, he’d claimed his motivation was that so he could talk to you about how the 2011 Hunter x Hunter anime was wrapping up, since he (flatterer!) said you had the best interpretations of certain characters, unlike some of your classmates, and Shouto tempted you with how you could stake out whatever posh food they had for you to try to recreate later. So, you’d dug out the dress you’d only worn to All Might’s official retirement party and agreed to attend.

Those present were a strange conglomeration of people, since the public opinion of Endeavor has been odd and tenuous lately. Essentially, the handful of attendees you knew were busy ingratiating themselves to people you’ve never seen before but they evidently were acquainted with, so those with whom you could hold an actual conversation with were scattered and few.

However, you didn’t even need to bring a book, because once you and Shouto had settled at a back table with both of your plates stacked with the most variety you could fit on them, he deadass pulled out his anime analysis notebook, which was starting to resemble Midoriya’s quirk analysis notebooks in terms of extensiveness and insanity, with lines crossing several pages to connect ideas. As you discussed where the two of you thought the characters were going, you had your own notebook—a new one, this one for recipes, and whenever either of you thought one of the appetizers was interesting, you wrote it down.

You were chewing on what Shouto had informed you was a water chestnut when the chair on your other side was pulled out with a screech against the tile, and Todoroki Touya plopped into it, his legs hardly having the time to spread before swiping a piece of candied salmon from your plate. The instant he bit down into it, his nose scrunched up.

“It’s fish, Touya,” said Shouto, dipping his own crudité in a tiny bowl of raspberry vinaigrette, and he passed his napkin to him. Touya spat the salmon into it, bunched it up, and edged it underneath the edge of your plate.

On your list, you wrote no fish! at the top, but before you even lifted your pen from the paper, you froze. The list wasn’t for this Touya; it was for your Touya. You crosshatched it out, trying to remember if your Touya had ever said anything about liking fish. He’d said he hadn’t, right? He didn’t like them alive, at the very least.

Shouto chomped down harshly, the crunch of raw celery distinct even through his closed mouth. “What brings you over here, Touya?”

He already had the text-to-speech function pulled up on his phone, and he held a parmesan palmier between his teeth as he typed. “People were asking Natsuo and Fuyumi about what they’re doing with their lives. It was only a matter of time before they got to me. Don’t wanna hear anyone else describe the nothing I’m doing. At least I know you guys are too busy talking about nerd crap to shit on me.”

“Oh, sweet boy,” you said, pursing your lips, “You’re in recovery. That’s enough. You don’t have to do anything to be worthwhile.” Wait. Fuck. You don’t talk to this Touya this way. Reel it back.

Crumbs fell from his mouth to the tablecloth. “The hell is wrong with you?” he typed.

Yeah, reel it way back. You elected not to respond, instead biting with difficulty into a brie/fig/prosciutto crostini and not being able to taste any of it.

“Would you like to discuss some so-called nerd crap with us?” Shouto arranged his notebook father across the table to be more in the middle of the three of you. “I know it’s been a while since you read Hunter x Hunter, but it’s been on hiatus so long that there’s not much new information that you need to know.”

“Hey,” you said, rushing to swallow, “You’ve read this before? How come you haven’t been sitting in to watch stuff with us?”

Touya shot Shouto a dark look, tongued a chunk of palmier into his cheek, and furiously typed on his phone. “I’m not interested in that shit anymore. It’s for kids.”

Shouto looked taken aback. “This is news to me. Do I have permission to take your manga volumes out of the house, then?”

“Fuck you,” Touya had already typed while Shouto was talking.

You bit back a smile. You’ve been borrowing a former, major villain’s manga? Cute. “But if you read it a while back, that means you’ve had more time to think about the characters,” you said, resting your elbow on the back of your chair as you shifted to face him, “Most of us are absorbing the story for the first time. It’d be cool to hear what you think.”

That parmesan palmier had looked good. Trusting this Touya on his taste, you wrote it on your list to investigate later, while he typed his response.

His expression fell flat enough to match the robotic tone. “Do you just want to hear me project my daddy and mommy issues onto the characters in the Zoldyck family?”

“No, Touya,” you said, laughing, “You have valuable things to say across the board, and I want to listen.” You almost nudged his knee with yours, but you had to stop yourself, something dark swirling in your chest. This wasn’t your Touya. You’re not allowed to.

His eyes flicked down towards the movement, but he didn’t comment. Shifting his jaw, he slipped off his white tuxedo jacket to drape it over the back of his chair, and for some reason, his gaze kept darting to you while he rolled the sleeves of his button-down up to his elbows, but he tried to give the appearance of being very focused on whatever skewered meat and pineapple was on the rim of your plate.

You were frowning. Fuck this. Fuck him. Touya was probably one of those guys who knew their effect on women, so he would know about the rolling-sleeves-to-elbows move. And fucking hell, was it effective for him, because the way he’s lost a lot of weight but was currently gaining it back made the tendons in his forearms much more noticeable when they tensed and strained, and the asymmetry of the burns and scars up his left arm in comparison to the smoothness of his prosthetic right only made him even more horribly, horribly attractive, and you were pissed about it, only getting more furious as he wrapped his tongue around the base of the first pineapple chunk and used his teeth to maneuver it off of the stolen skewer, hooded eyes staring you down. This Touya can act like a fucking slut, sure, but your Touya won’t even show you his goddamn hands.

“Hey, watch out.” You scratched your forehead in an attempt to conceal how enraged you were. “I’ve already had one of those. That lump at the end is an overly-breaded coconut shrimp. So—fish—be careful,” you finished lamely.

Touya’s hands and mouth were full with the skewer. Unable to type on his phone, he shifted the skewer to his left hand, flattened his right, and tapped his left wrist with it—the JSL sign for thank you.

You nodded and didn’t think anything of it for a moment, but when it hit you, you seized up and stared at him, chest swelling, proud and confused and frozen. Getting a little lightheaded, actually, but oh, God, who wouldn’t at the sight of Todoroki Touya, quiet and subdued but still suave as fuck, sitting so close to you in a freshly dishevelled white tuxedo that fit like it was custom-made for him, smelling so, so good and smiling with his perfect teeth (how are they that good when he was with the League for so long?), leaning towards you to steal your food and showing that he’d been paying attention to you, that he’d taken the JSL book you’d left with Shouto, that he’d thought about you when you’ve been apart and cared enough to try to learn something new with you, and you were going to kiss him; he deserved it; you were going to grab that stupidly adorable face and—no, that lightheadedness was also stemming from the soulmate bond activating.

Nausea swept through you for more than one reason. If your Touya discovered you were fighting the urge to kiss someone else, let alone the other Touya, then—you didn’t know. You didn’t know how you’d ever recover. Please let this be from your perspective, so he can’t feel your feelings, please.

“I have to go,” you said, pushing up on the table to stand, not even bothering to flash Shouto the soulmate hand signal. You had to get away. No matter if it were from your perspective or his, distance would help you suppress your fucking shameful crush on your friend’s older brother.

Good God, you were crossing the streams, you noted and fumed as you escaped onto a vacant alcove. Because they have the same goddamn name, your brain has been conflating the two of them. Shut up. You’re only allowed to have one Touya. Two would be greedy and dismissive of the soulmate bond in the first place.

Vertigo struck you so severely that you had to brace yourself against the nearest column, but you swopped to the balcony railing because you could grasp it and put most of your weight on it, and because your brain was swimming, you hand to get on your knees to wait for it to pass. “No, you can’t,” you said, trying your hardest to push thought of that Touya out of your head in case your Touya could feel them, “You can’t—that one doesn’t need to be in a romantic relationship right now. He’s working on himself. It’d fuck him up.” And ohhhh, you left your phone at the table, so you couldn’t call your Touya, and fuck, you didn’t want him to feel confused or betrayed because you weren’t calling him—

“Whose future are you deciding, here?”

Your Touya. He was here?

You opened your eyes to the sight of the balcony and the garden below, thank fuck. Okay, you could work with this. You could work with this; he’s not supposed to be able to feel—

His voice came from close behind you, as if he were leaning on another side of the column. “What’s got you feeling this guilty?”

Holy shit holy shit, has the bond evolved? Can feelings be felt from both sides regardless of perspective? “Hey, Touya.”

“Don’t turn around,” he said, even though you’d made no movement to.

“Can you see?”

“Only through you, angel. Otherwise, I’m in the dark.” With the sounds of clothes shifting, Touya must have crouched behind you, joints cracking. A fingerless-gloved hand brushed down your arm, and he moved your lace shawl out of the way to stroke your bare skin. Your mind was already going haywire at your betrayal, and his cold, gentle touch was not helping. “What’s wrong, hm?” He adjusted himself again behind you so that he could wrap his other arm around your waist, pulling you back into him, and his cool, rough lips pressed against the curve of your neck as he rested his head there.

You were going to cry. You’ll do it. For real, this time.

“Did that Todoroki Touya guy bother you? I saw him sitting at your table.”

God, no, he brought up whom you were trying to avoid, and you cringed, hating yourself as Touya’s hand sank down your arms to entwine his fingers with yours, rumpled shirtsleeves grazing your bare skin and leather gloves curbing the maximal skin-to-skin contact.

“He’s so fucked up that I wouldn’t be surprised if you hated him,” Touya was saying into your ear, “I could grind him into a pulp for you. He’d deserve it, wouldn’t he, for what he did to everyone? And I was burning up with jealousy from across the room; someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have such a hideous thing by your side.”

You made a noise from the back of your throat. You didn’t know, and you especially didn’t need the one person you were trying to hide your internal conflict from while you were actively trying to work out the internal conflict. First things first, you supposed. “Touya’s not fucking ugly.”

Your Touya snorted against your neck, hot air washing down the hollow of your throat. “I forgot how twisted you are. But there’s no way you could actually like him, right?”

“I can’t,” you said, releasing the balcony to clench your fists on your knees, “I can’t like him. He needs to discover who he is as an individual before he finds out how he functions in a relationship. He doesn’t need romance—or me, at this point in his life.”

“Interesting,” he said, more clearly now that his mouth wasn’t muffled against your skin, “Sounds like you think something’s wrong with him. Like he’s not whole. And isn’t he broken? You’d have to be, if you pulled the shit he did, burning cities to the ground and murdering—”

“Shut up,” you said, hunching in on yourself, “You’re don’t know. You’re believing what other people have told you about him. You’re just—you’re just like people who talk about that nerd shit you hate without checking the source material. They’ll talk about certain characters in terms of false narratives they’ve crafted, and they’ll talk about them for so long that the false information becomes conflated with the characters, with everyone thinking the wrong stuff is real. I—fuck.” You winced, but he was listening, his free hand winding around your neck to adjust the migrant clasp on your necklace to the back of your throat. “I know my ideas of Touya stem from propaganda, but I want to learn about him from him. Just based on what I’ve seen, there’s so much out there that’s wrong—it’s even subconsciously perpetuated in his own home, since the shrine where his family mourned him is still there. And I hate it. I hate it, because he seems so lovable, but so are you, and I hate myself because I want to love only you, because you’re my soulmate, and I’m so, so, so goddamn terrified that you’re gonna reject me and leave me alone forever now that I’ve betrayed you. By feeling stuff for someone else.”

You were crying. You were crying, nose stopping up, and Touya kissed your throat, over the clasp of your necklace. “Rejection’s a bitch. I know that,” he said under his breath, “So, I’m not gonna do that to you, even if…” He trailed off, instead latching his mouth to your neck again, letting his tongue flick over your skin once, as if it were an afterthought. “You really like him?”

“I’m scared that I do,” you said, taking a corner of your shawl to daub at your tears.

“The only thing to do is feel it out, I guess.” Touya settled at last, shifting weight and moving his legs so that they’d be on either side of you, and his left arm joined the other around your waist to hold you close. “Or let it die, if you want. The soulmate bond doesn’t matter in the end. You don’t have to love him or me.”

“But Touya,” you said, sniffing, dying to look back at him but restraining yourself, “I do.”

***

Later that night, you were researching how to make little cheese balls that were shaped like pumpkins like they’d had at the awards ceremony when you felt the familiar wooziness. Funny. It’s not often that the bond activates twice in one day. You closed your laptop and set your notebook aside, waiting for the slow, drowsy fade into Touya’s eyes.

Tonight, it’s a jarring, instantaneous slam into his perspective, and you felt like you’d been knocked about in the baggage rack of a train. You threw out your hands to balance yourself, even though you hadn’t been physically moved, and the queasiness made it hard to concentrate, blackness blotting at the edges of your periphery.

But the darkness of Touya’s bedroom wasn’t helping, with only partially drawn curtains letting in moonlight, and—and oh, my God, he’s flat on his back in bed, tousled bedsheets, cock out, and it’s so pretty, unfairly pretty, thick as hell but thicker at the head than the base, blushing deep pink, leaking onto the faint lines of re-developing abs and a vaguely red trail of hair, and—

The hand touching it has skin grafts.

“—ugh, darlin’, fuck, you know what I’m gonna—gonna do to you, angel?” Touya was muttering to himself, too caught up to realise you were there. “You don’t—you don’t know what you do to me.”

You’d registered his pubic hair as vaguely red because, now that you were staring, only the very tips of the untouched hair trailing down his stomach were red, with what he’d probably shaved at some point lower on his body snowy against whatever unburnt skin could still grow hair. He’s gripping himself at an angle that doesn’t make him rub against a strand of load-bearing staples on his upper thigh (did someone say load?), connecting a stretch of familiarly burned skin to a healing graft, diamond-speckled and twitching with his cock the closer he drew to orgasm (from the back of your mind surfaced a questioning thought of if he’d advocated for healing his hands first, since staples would hinder smooth masturbation). His prosthetic arm lay unattached at his side.

“Hahh, I wanna,” said Touya, drawing in a ragged breath, “wanna make a mess outta you, y’always too put together, too fuckin’ pretty for y’own damn good, fuck.” He rubbed his thumb over his tip, the skin there giving everso slightly at the pressure, with another bead of precum swelling before it dripped onto his stomach. “Gonna find wha—whatever I can do to make you fuckin’ whine, and I’m gonna, hah, follow that sound for the rest of my goddamn life, and, oh—fuck, fuck, how, how sweet you’d feel wrapped around me, how much I don’t fuckin’ deserve—”

He cut himself off to take a deep, stuttering breath, and you saw the gates of heaven in the way his chest surged forward when he arched his back, lines of burns and scars carved into his skin like a roadmap. And Touya moaned for you, and you didn’t know how much you’d needed to hear both Touyas do that until now, but before he could finish the first syllable of your name, you were lurched out of the bond and back into your room, just as abruptly as it had begun.

Your hands were shaking as you tied your shoelaces, aware of the leak into your underwear when you bent over, and you dashed to the nearest train depot, navigating in fervent, distant buzz all the way to the Todoroki estate. You must have appeared sufficiently crazy, because the only vacant seats on the train were next to you.

(In your heart of hearts, you had known.

If you’d put it into words, consciously, where both Touyas overlapped, it would’ve been too hard to bear if they’d been different people, which was, regardless, the most logical situation. Getting excited for your soulmate to be your former crush and then being disappointed when it wasn’t him felt like a betrayal to your soulmate. You hadn’t wanted to set yourself up for disappointment or betrayal, because you shouldn’t feel guilt when you look at your soulmate. Someone who holds your heart in his hand should never be second best to you. Touya’s had enough of not being enough in his life.

Surely the random chance of a stranger’s quirk wouldn’t be so kind to give you whom you’ve been wanting. You haven’t allowed yourself to hope.)

You didn’t even go in the front door. You clambered over the garden wall and berated yourself for not recognising Touya’s garden earlier, even though you’ve usually been around the kitchen and living room when you’re here. It took you longer than it could’ve to get to his teahouse, because you were deliberately staying on the garden path instead of walking on his hard work, but you didn’t even take off your shoes at the entrance, the nightingale floors chirping out in the night as you surged towards his bedroom door.

Touya lay facing the window in his very Western bed that took up most of the room—and much of his bedroom was like that, with his modern belongings scattered across other outdated furnishings, clean but cluttered, thought it startled you to open the door onto a Naruto poster taped in the space designated for a hanging scroll.

You only had time to absorb poster and lived-in before you saw the face of God in how Touya stretched and groaned in bed, arching his back and holding it until his back popped (a little too fixated on his moonlit nipples, like seeing them would fix you, flip you back to your factory settings). “Natsuo,” he said, coming out of his groan, eyes scrunched shut, “Don’t say you’re here to make me re-hang the windchimes. I spent all day tracking how air flows through the garden.”

You sat at the foot of his bed, mattress dipping slightly, still in your coat and shoes and hesitant to spread dirt, but the need to be near Touya, even if it were through blankets, consumed you. Hands folded behind his head, Touya cracked open an eye at the weight, and he froze.

You hadn’t prepared any confession on the train. You’d been too focused on the memory of his thighs. So, what garbled nonsense that came out of your mouth was “I figured your dick would be pierced.”

Touya appeared to snap back into reality, and he sat up in bed, pulling the blankets up to cover more of his bare chest (mourning for his nipples. Inconsolable about it, even) and quite obviously tried so hard to be chill (the way his leg started jiggling underneath the covers and how he wouldn’t look you in the eyes for more than a couple of seconds gave him away, though). “Is that what they say about me?”

You folded your hands in your lap, bent over for a swift escape in case he wanted you to leave “Jirou conjectures that you have a Jacob’s ladder.”

“Just what I need. More holes in my body.” He ran his tongue over his lower lip—much more scarred than the upper one, clarifying some things about kissing him. “Don’t know how to take that a bunch of kids who resent me talk about the state of my dick. You a part of that crowd?”

“I was shown a picture of what was advertised to be a very realistic dildo,” you said, scooting your ass farther back onto the bed now that he wasn’t going to send you away, “It had many, many piercings. It wasn’t as thick, if that makes you feel better.”

“It does not,” said Touya, brow pinched. He brought his legs up to hug them to his chest, but he must have changed his mind, instead just letting them block your view of him, hiding behind the cover of the lumpy comforter.

You waited for him to elaborate. His tuxedo was thrown over a wicker trunk, bowtie tossed onto a kotatsu, even though it wasn’t cold enough outside, with his gaming controller next to it and an open can of black tea. Two floor seats were haphazardly tucked underneath the kotatsu’s blanket, the one facing the TV flatter and duller than the one nearer the door. His only bookshelf had the illusion that it was constantly being added to, with the first shelf arranged neatly and the rest completely shoved together, the lowest one still mostly empty—your sign language book lay horizontally on it.

He should’ve said something by now, right? Antsy, you shifted your weight, staring down at your shoes. To have something to do, you slowly took them off, lining them up with Touya’s house slippers (with seahorses on them?) next to the bed, and you swallowed your pride to break the ice. “I’m glad it’s you, by the way. Very glad.”

Touya grunted and draped an arm over his knees. “Did you know?”

“I will be generous and say not really,” you said, shuffling off your coat to hang on the bedpost, “I didn’t permit myself to make the connections.”

“Eh.” He shrugged with one shoulder—the left one, the natural one. He’d reattached his prosthetic in the meantime. “There are around one hundred Touyas in Japan, according to the last census.”

“Sounds like a prepared statistic,” you said, holding back that the name frequency has probably plummeted in the last few years, “I’m serious, though. I wanted my Touya—soulmate, you, Touya—to be Todoroki Touya. So badly.”

He covered his mouth, thumbing at his lower lip and simply staring at you. In the moonlight, his eyes were as fucking bright blue as—well. As his flames. More things were clicking into place.

“Really, Touya,” you said, desperate for him to believe you, “I liked you as the stranger in the alley, and I liked you as Dabi, and when my soulmate seemed to share some traits with the other Touya in my life, I didn’t give myself permission to think about it. Because I was growing fond of the you that spoke to me, that I was getting to know, and while my feelings for the other you were being rekindled, too, I wanted to love the soulmate you more, because it's become fucking evident to me that I was made to love you, even without this soulmate stuff. You’ve been scattered throughout my life, anyway. It just happened to speed things up, since it forced you to talk to me. Otherwise, you’d probably still be at the point where you’re the brooding-older-brother figure who isolates himself in his room when his brother’s friends are over.”

Touya was frowning, but you waited it out entirely this time. “You saw…all that,” he eventually said, gesturing down himself, “and you still want me?”

Biting back a smile, you lifted your knees to the bed, moving slowly to gauge his reaction before getting closer to him. “I saw you decapitate someone, and I still want you.”

“You’re insane,” said Touya, tensing up as you neared him but twitching into a nervous grin, eyes falling to your boobs, away to the window, and back to your face.

“Correct,” you said, and you knelt next to him, taking all of your restraint to keep from reaching out the final few centimetres to run your hands down his chest. “Don’t you need someone a little insane, though?”

The comforter fell a few inches down his chest, and you throat ran dry at the long line of fading stitches and staples.

You raised a quivering hand to his face, and it’s strange: both of you flinched in the moment your fingertips felt the tiniest bit of body heat emanating from his cheek, and it’s strange: it’s the first time you’ve felt any heat come from Touya at all, and it’s strange: you could see yourself so clearly waking up next to him every day, putting your chin on his shoulder while he picked out fruits at the grocery store, feeding the koi late at night together while you lured the ducks away, watching his eyes soften in the same way both when he sinks his teeth into something you’ve baked and his cock deep into you while he cradled you closely to his chest, but at the moment, it might be too much for you—and perhaps Touya as well, judging by the nearly incomprehensible, jumbled sort of expression—if you even touched his face.

Perhaps the prospect of romance was too much for him at this point in his life. The last thing Touya should be feeling about that was guilt.

“I don’t mind being on the backburner while you figure things out,” you said, returning your hand to your lap and trying very hard not to look at his nipples, “I’ll wait for whatever you need to do. I’ll—”

“No,” said Touya, shaking himself out of whatever spiralling dive he’d been leaning into, “Hell, no. No fucking—” He snatched the hand you’d almost touched him with and clenched it hard, smushing your fingers together (startled by the physical contact, even though he’d initiated it), and after a flash of frustration at his prosthetic arm, he passed your hand to his left. “You’re fucking sticking around. You—you don’t just look at me; you see me, in such a different fucking way than anyone else, and you did it immedia—it took my family so long to look, and you—you’ve been watching. Been paying attention. It’s all I’ve ever—” He frowned, rolling his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “It’s good to have you around while I dig myself out of this hole,” he said, squeezing your hand harder but glaring outside through the window, “I wish I had known you sooner.”

“I’m here now, and I want to get to know you better. I want to hear more about you, things that are true,” you said, “and don’t start with anything self-deprecating, Touya. The next time the bond lets you see through me, I’m gonna show you what you look like through my eyes. And I’m not lying to you when I say you are so very, very pretty.”

Grunting, Touya fidgeted in bed, the covers slipping down to his stomach, drawing your hand closer to him, with your body leaning in to follow his pull. “Shit,” he said, “Don’t say shit like that right now.”

“Touya, I am gonna tell you how gorgeous you are until you believe it, and that starts now.”

“Not tha—well, yes, that, but I—” He sucked in through his teeth (also sucking in through a tiny hollow in his cheek caused by a loose staple, with a faint, wheezing whistle) and threaded his fingers through yours, pulling your hands towards his shoulder so that you loomed over his chest, “I have a hell of a refractory period now. It’s fuckin’ hard for me to get hard a lot, and you saw me; I just—” Inhaling sharply, he jerked his hand away from yours and frantically started wiping it on the blankets.  The new skin around the tips of his ears bloomed pink. “I haven’t washed my hands.”

“Touya,” you said, “Like I care.” You took the hand he was trying to hide in the folds of the blanket and licked up his palm, holding eye contact and relishing the way the blush spread to the untouched skin around the corners of his eyes. “I want all of you. Both sides you’ve shown me, and more. So long as it’s real. So long as it’s you.”

“All right. First step is getting on top of me,” said Touya, and, palm wet, he took your hand again, and he tugged on it, guiding you into his lap, other hand sliding down the thigh you swung over him. “Makes it easier to talk, y’know. To look at you.”

“Oh? Are we starting with your tragic backstory? If you’re taking requests,” you said, sliding your hand up and over his shoulder to run your fingers over his collarbone (jutting out from under both burnt and new skin), “then I’d like to hear your perspective of when you first kissed me.”

Touya lift his prosthetic hand to your cheek, just as cold and strong as his real one, and he placed his thumb at the corner of your lower lip, tip breaking the seal of your lips to press in just barely. “Actually, I think we’ll start with this pretty mouth of yours.”

***

Iida was shouting and gesturing from the living room that you only had fifteen minutes before the episode viewing was scheduled to start, and Shinsou shut him up by reminding him that Tokoyami had to pick up Ojiro and Hagakure from the floristry across town and that they’d start watching whenever they started watching, so chill out, Iida. Go help Mina pick the bugles out of her hair, or something.

You and Touya crouched together in front of the oven, staring through the glass at the rows of potato wedges—the recipe he claims his mother made when he was five, but surely a woman as sensible as Todoroki Rei wouldn’t put that much fucking cayenne pepper or paprika or chili sauce or—listen, it was a lot.

“C’mon, pretty boy, tell me something else true about you,” you said, nudging his shoulder with yours while you made eye contact with him in the oven’s reflection.

“Hm,” he said, scratching the underside of his chin with a bare hand (the gloves lay folded back on the teahouse dresser), “I hate fish.”

(Here you sighed dramatically, because you obviously already knew this. His loathing was intensified at the moment, though, because he’d had to get up and leave you in the middle of the night last night because the koi pond monitor was blaring at a stupid clog in the filter.)

“Tastes fuckin’ gross dead. Bitch to take care of livin’.”

You pushed on your knees to stand, and you held out a hand to help him up. “Enough with the negativity, dickhead. Tell me more about what you like.”

“Besides you?” He took your hand and grinned, putting all his weight into it as you strained to lift him, and when the oven timer beeped and you’d shot a few choice words his way, he had mercy and stood up by himself. He grabbed the oven mitts and tossed them to you, and while you removed the tray from the oven, he ran his hand through the sharp, white spikes of his hair, inadvertently wiping specks of paprika into it.

You set the tray on a cooling rack. “C’mon, Touya. No need to be so cheesy.”

“I can be worse,” he said, winding his arms around your waist before you could even take off the oven mitts, cradling you close to him, no room in between, and he propped his chin on your shoulder. “I can even incorporate—you call me cheesy; you’re the one who called me pretty boy not a minute ago.”

Blindly, you raised a hand to run it back through Touya’s soft, soft hair, and you gently bumped your cheek against his. “I am not being cheesy by simply stating the truth. You’re gorgeous, Touya.”

“Bet I’d look even better throbbing inside you.”

“Please follow a logical flow in conversation like the rest of us,” you said, and when you couldn’t grasp the spatula you were reaching for, Touya grabbed it for you, scraping up some of the first row, having to release you during the process.

Leaning on the counter to face him, you flinched at the heat before pinching a potato wedge between the tips of your fingers, but Touya held one like it was completely cool. It had almost touched his tongue before he paused and waited for your reaction to his recipe.

His potato wedges were bad. Too crunchy on top because of the odd broil time and not-fully-ground peppercorns and too soggy and soft underneath, especially in the part where it’d stuck to the tin foil and peeled off, and the combination of spices didn’t quite mesh together well. With a sliver of quiet triumph, you swallowed a bite of potato wedge decidedly worse than the ones you made.

But Touya was looking at you, eyes brimming with hope despite his otherwise carefully cultivated cool exterior, watching, waiting for you—and it was Touya, after all; Touya was the one who cooked these—made them for you, deliberately, on purpose—and so that made what words were about to come out of your mouth true and beautiful.

soulmate trope taglist: @bakugouspsycho, @pansexualproblemchild, @doonaandpjs, @sunsetevergreen, @the-coffee-is-on-fire, @liberace2, @ladymidnight77, @nonomesupposedto, @gooooomz, @kissmebakugou, @pachiibatt, @celestair, @tiredkittykat, @cheshireshiya, @90s-belladonna, @infjsnightmare

#bnha #dabi #dabi x reader #dabi/reader #dabi imagine #dabi fic #mha #dabi headcanons #dabi fanfiction #dabi fanfic #soulmates #soulmate au #soulmate #dash it all

[dilfhos]

TRAINRIDE

#!WHO; DABI x fem!READER

A! i hope u ignore this cus its stupid but I think dabi/touya being a total scum to huge endeavor fan reader should be a thing

+ (i added my twist to it; at the time this was sent, i was on my dc shit heavy and id already started it)

#!CW: deadoves!n0nc0n, dirty talk, degradation, humiliation, implied exhibitionism, gaslighting, touya arc if you squint real close! dabi has dick piercings bc i said so

tagging: @mostlyheinous @scariusaquarius @dabislittlemouse @nyx--knacks @the-grimm-writer @ectologia

Dabi hated taking public transportation, especially now.

It subjected him to having to conceal his identity for one, blending into the fleeting crowds with dark, long clothing. It didn’t bother him as much had it been any other time, one where he wasn’t on constant guard or easily irritated by familiar phrases and his face.

Dabi only gave a quick glance to the glass behind him, eyeing the way his big hood hung low on his head, hand deep into his trench pocket as the other supported his balance. He drew his hood lower at the glance from a man on his left.

The train eased to a stop and the doors slid open as the crowd swarmed to bring in and send out more people. When the doors closed and the train began to move again, he found himself being thrown forward. A small yelp came from the woman in front of him, turned partially.

He was about to mumble something before his eyes made contact with what she was wearing.

Seeing that you were brazenly adorned in merchandise of the number one hero, he scrunched his nose up at the sight of your complimentary accessories before finally settling on your face. Preoccupied with your phone to notice his oggling, you shifted, body moving with the force of the train as it started moving.

Dabi didnt mean to look, but the subtle quake of your chest piqued his vision and he wished he wasn’t met with those same fucking eyes. How cringe you looked with the familiar navy phone-case you had on the back of your phone to match.

In fact, if Dabi wanted to, he’d stand there and count every one of Endeavor’s paraphernalia and the number could be well over three. You really walk around like that? Parading your favorite hero on your body like a fangirl poster.

He chuckled darkly before rolling his eyes. Yeah, you probably had one or two of them in your room that you fuck yourself to at night to boot.

The train was only a little crowded but not enough to fully obscure your body from his view. You were dressed in jeans, the denim pairing with a snug t-shirt that sculpted your chest perfectly under his gaze. On the back he could see the familiar bright flames. They were disgustingly familiar, completing the stoic features of the hero on the front.

“Endeavor, huh?” You finally glanced up, a bit surprised to find barely anyone on board at this point. A few men sat adjacent, some sleep, others occupied on their own devices and papers or simply dead in gaze as they awaited their respective stops.

Then him, of course.

Turning fully around you face the source of the comment and your heart began to hammer.

Under a subtle glance or two, he didn’t look too out of the ordinary. Dark pants, shoes and a coat on his back, he could’ve as easily passed for some unremarkable human being cold and exhausted from days events. However, under the certain proximity, you had a clear view of his face, unmistakably his metal-littered, scarred face and the dangerously piercing gaze to match.

You parted your lips but he held up a finger, silencing you before you could squeak a sound. He glanced around toward the few other occupants in the car, noting them to be of no significance until his eyes returned back to yours, the silent threat of impending danger weighing heavily in the air around you.

“Are you-are you going to kill me?” You finally said, voice sickeningly timid. Wide eyes peered up at him, height clearing yours as he slowly backed you towards the side of the car.

“He your favorite hero?” Dabi ignored your question, eyes flickering to your chest before his hand followed. You squeaked in surprise as he boldly placed his hand against your breast.

Jerking away, you prepare to to defend yourself when he gripped your wrist.

“To answer the question, I’m not gonna kill you. ‘M just gonna hurt you real bad though,” You’re spun before another word is uttered, the rattling of metal against wheels loud enough to drown your protests.

“Please don’t do this,” His hands were exploring your body, running up your thighs and cruelly pinching at the skin on your sides before settling on the hem of your jeans.

“Please don’t,” You whimpered shakily, meeting the villain’s eyes in the glass.

“I just feel like ya personally insulting me y’know?” He grunted over the sound of his belt clinking. His hand was back on your side now, nails digging into the meat of the exposed skin until drawing a wince.

Dabi shuffled forward until your hands were pressed against the wall of the train, steadying yourself. His other made quick work of yanking down your jeans until they rested around your thighs, panties on display before his hungry gaze.

“D-don’t. I’ll scream.” By now, you’d been reduced to a whimpering, teary-eyed mess, your frantic gaze shifting through the other riders for a witness to what was going on.

But they were all too preoccupied to care.

“Yeah, for who?” The passengers that did notice were the wrong ones.

You met the greedy eyes of the man closest to you and the way his own dropped down to your connected bodies. Dabi was quick to notice that and chuckled before leaning down toward your ear.

“Still your idol, doll? This is his society, you know? The one on your ridiculously, ugly top,” He snickered, his fingers hooking into the side of your panties.

Before you could cry out, his scarred hand clamped over your mouth at the same time as his cock breached your cunt. You tensed, nothing escaping you but a muffled gasp as he shoved himself past your tight ring of resistance. Your eyes were wide, peering back at you in the glass, reflecting off of the pain and horror present.

“Mm, so tight.” He licked the shell of your ear and you release a shuddering sob. He began a snappy, brutal pace, the thick cock dragging heavily through your dry walls. Every time he pulled away, you felt every vein, every metallic orb scraping against gummy insides.

He slammed back into you at the same time the train screeched over rusted tracks, grunting with every stroke, his thin hip bones snapping against your ass.

His grip was bruising as he held onto your waist, his wrist only flicking to push and pull you back onto his dick. His other hand remained pressed against your mouth to muffle your cries and moans. You reached behind to at least try and push him away, alleviate the grating pain he was causing but your attempts were laughable as he only slapped away your efforts.

Dabi sped up, stumbling forward until your front was pressed against the metal interior, body squished between hot and cool. The hand over your mouth dropped to hang loosely around your neck, tilting your head back to meet his. The hood over his head only served to make him all the more menacing with the shadow that casted over his grotesque features.

“What do you think Mr. Endeavor would say if he saw his biggest fan being defiled like this? Probably be disgusted huh? I mean, allowing a complete stranger to fuck you on public transportation.” Your eyes closed as you imagined the twisted look of repulsion on your favorite hero and the image brought you to more tears.

You hiccupped as he trailed fingers down in between your legs to brush against your clit, missing the way his grin widened at the way you suddenly tense up. You released a pained moan at the way your pussy clamped down on him.

“So sensitive,” He chuckled at the way you try and bite down your orgasm. He could feel you start to relax, your cunt pulsating around him as your juices started to slick him up.

Overhead, the sound of the loudspeaker crackling at the next stop had Dabi’s eyes glancing up, as if now aware of the time. Releasing you, his hand fell to your other hip where his blunt nails dug as his pace quickened.

“Stop’s coming up,” He mumbled. You didn’t really hear him though. You were busy trying not to give in to the way his cock was filling you up, the pain parting into pleasure, your juices beginning to fall and squish around his dick.

Your head hung low; you couldn’t even look at your reflection in the glass anymore, at the way your brows furrowed over glossy, blown eyes. The way your wet lips part to release silent moans. You were despicable. You couldn’t call yourself a fan of the great Endeavor anymore, not after this.

Not after him.

Dabi’s feet planted firmly, his hips suddenly stuttering to a halt. He was quick to conceal your squeal with his hand again as his dick twitched in your cunt. Your teary eyes widened as you felt warmth flooding you, too horrified to even move save for your trembles.

He was still going, slowly rutting his nut back into you with shallow strokes. It was only until you heard a chime overhead that he pulled away with a content sigh.

Dabi eyed the way his cum was beginning to seep down your thighs, dripping into your bunched up jeans and an idea formed in his head, one that had him grinning sadistically.

A moment later your trembling legs finally gave way allowing you to sink onto the floor.

He began to fix himself, adjusting the hood on his head. He threw a cocky salute to the man eyeballing him earlier and a final disgusted look down at those eyes on your shirt. He then shook his head with a forming smile, walking away and leaving you on the floor of the cold train. The whooshing of the doors were deafening in your ears as you looked up to greedy eyes.

Back at the hero agency, Endeavor’s phone lit up and a notification from an unknown number had his brows furrowed in confusion at the link. His scowl only deepened after further investigation.

DILFOS. do not plagiarize my content—current or archival.

#dabi x reader #touya todoroki x reader #dabi fanfic #dabi smut #bnha x reader #reader x dabi #dabi fic #bnha smut #[ deadoves— ☆] #[ output—☆ ] #old request #awe i hope this anon somehow finds this lol #ft a corny ass joker line LEAVE ME ALONE

[mackenziebrooks]

Just A Little Taste

warning: only mentions the word whiskey, toxic, obsession, addictive, drink.

Everyone told you that Dabi was a tall, dark glass of expensive whiskey. No one could handle the ache of a taste that he gave off. They said after one drink, you’ll be addicted. Boy, they were right. You kept going back and back for more, knowing he was toxic. Knowing you won’t be able to get rid of him. Knowing you’ll get burned every time you but you couldn’t help it. You liked the way it hurts. It made you feel alive made you feel like you were having fun. However, the burning sensation came with a price. The price of being Dabi’s new toy. His new obsession. Good luck with trying to get rid of him. Because you won’t be able to escape, you are his now. It happens when you want one little taste.

#bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #dabi #dabi x reader #touya todoroki #bnha dabi #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #dabi writing #mha dabi #dabi smut #todoroki touya #dabi todoroki #dabi mha #dabi fanfic #dabi fic #dabi dabble

[icameheretoreadstuff]

What's your plan now?

Pairing: Dabi x F!Reader Warnings: 18+, MDNI!, NSFW, Smut, Dry Humping, Dirty Talk, Wet and Messy, unprotected Smut, creampie, Kinda Enemies to lovers, Sexual Tension Summary: He's got you pinned down, youre saying fuck you but really you want to say is Fuck me.. A/N: masterpost & links are pinned on my tumblr. I do not own this pic, found it on pinterest. I got this idea stuck in my head and just needed to write it asap- part 2 is up

"what the hell are you doing?" you hissed "You're pretty cute when you fight" he smirked as he was pinning you down. "Do not expect me to go easy on your ass just because youre ontop of me" you hissed and tried to wiggle free but to no avail.

His knees was placed beside your hips, he held your both hands with one hand, pinned them down over your head and his other hand on your throat. "Do you have any idea how much you piss me off?" you panted "You are so fucking annoying, You think you can do whatever you want, huh?" You ranted, "keep going" he said amused "Shut up" you spat.

You were annoyed with how attractive he was, His muscled arm around your neck and his loose tshirt revealing his muslces around his neck and shoulders, you looked further down knowing his eyes were burning at you, but you couldn't help yourself as you looked down seeing his boner tighting up his pants and were inches away from your core. He smirked as you laid your head down and looked away while trying not to blush.

"Dabi" you whispered as you couldn't help but to feel so turned on. "I'm curious, how much have you thought about me?" he asked you couriously "Fuck you" You stared into his annoyingly beautiful eyes "I really like seeing you under me like this" his words made you blush "shut up" you whispered and couldn't help but to check him out.

"why won't you make me" he flirted, you were lost for words and mumbled "you make me so god damn frustrated" you couldn't help but to look at his lips, You blushed over the thought that he had this power over you.

He smirked "You had the opportunity to leave many times now" he said "but you keep checking me out" He moved down his hips and pressed his boner onto your clothed clit causing you to reveal your inner thoughts: you moaned instantly.

"Is this what you want?" He cooes "mmf" you moaned as you couldnt stop enjoying him pressing and grinding his dick ontop of you. His raspy groans made your head spin, You took deep breaths as you couldn't help but to thrust your hips up on his dick.

He lifted up his dick from your core, you bit your lips trying to hold back your moans. You quickly let loose of his grip and grabbed his collar "What's your plan now?" he whispered as he leaned his boner onto your clit once more, this time harder as he grinded his dick onto your clit. You let out moans as you pulled him closer and crashed your lips into his.

You couldn't hold back anymore and neither did he, all this teasing and flirting from him was making your head spin. Your mind was like a fog and the only thing you wanted was him. You moaned into his kisses as he pinned you down.

He leaned back and before he could say anything you said "take my pants off" He grinned as he dragged them off. "I need you" you whispered, he smirked and opened his belt and pulled down his pants revealing his hard throbbing dick bouncing out of his pants causing you to forget how to breathe for a second.

"Spread your legs for me sweetheart" You obeyed and he groaned as he leaned ontop of you and grinded his dick onto your wet folds while making out with you. "Youre so wet for me" he groaned, You moaned into his lips "I want you inside me" you moaned as you felt you were shaking of arousal "Fuck" He felt like his dick was throbbing as he grinded his dick into your wet folds. "y/n" he groaned as he grabbed his dick and pushed it inside you, He huffed and groaned as he rolled his hips and snapped his hips as he thrusted inside you slowly, with rough kisses.

You wrapped your hands around his neck as you moaned "you fill me up so good" you let out a deep breath, feeling your entire body shoot out a sparks down twoards your core as you thrusted your hips up so he could go deeper inside you.

His pelvis grinded on yours as he thrusted hard into you. "fuck" you moaned as you felt his dick filling you up on all the right places "You like me fucking you?" He groaned "fuck you feel so good" you moaned feeling unable to answer him, you gasped silently as you curled your toes feeling your climax coming on fast.

"Dabi" you moaned as he started to thrust harder into you, You climaxed and squirted on his dick. "Fuck" he groaned as he lifted up your legs almost up to your shoulders as he thrusted harder into you, the wet sounds filling the room as his hips were clapping and grinding on your pelvis.

He let out raspy moans "Cum for me" you moaned as you felt him grip your thighs hard "you want me to cum inside you?" you blushed as you nodded "say it out loud" he smirked while his hips were clapping hard into you. "yes, please cum inside me" you moaned as you felt another climax coming in.

"Fuck Dabi" you moaned, He groaned as he pressed his cock hard into you and climaxed deep inside you. He grabbed your neck and choked you lightly as he panted, he kept thrusting inside you "You wanna cum again for me, sweetheart?" you moaned at his words "be a good girl and cum on my dick" he smirked as his dick was thrusting inside you.

The wet sounds from where you were connected, his raspy groans and his rough kisses sent you over the edge, You climaxed hard and pulled him close and kissed him roughly while moaning. "Fuck!" you panted.

He slipped out of you as he smiled, seing your throbbing clit and his sperm slowly dripping out of you. "Fuck, this sight makes my dick hard all over again" he smirked "But sadly, I have to go" he said and raised up and took on his pants. Luckly you had some paper towls inside your pocket from the coffee place you were at earlier and cleaned yourself up.

You raised up and took on your pants "This was a one time thing" you said as you tried to collect yourself. He smirked as he walked over to the door and turned to look at you "yeah sure" he teased as he winked at you.

Both you and him knew this was not a one time thing, even if you didn't want to admit that to him "yeah sure?" you asked him, he walked over to you with a look on his face that made you blush, he grabbed your chin softly and leaned closer to your mouth to kiss you but stopped.

He smirked as he could read your face clearly. Your lips were like a magnet to his as you kissed him. His lips, his silent moans and his warmth felt like an addiction.

You couldn't help yourself as you started to make out with him, his lips felt too good- He felt so good. You moaned into the kisses as he suddenly leaned back "just a one time thing, huh?" he teased.

#dabi smut #touya smut #dabi #bnha dabi #dabi headcanons #dabi imagine #bnha touya #dabi bnha #dabi drabble #dabi fic #dabi x reader #dabi todoroki #mha dabi #dabi mha #dabi is touya #dabi fluff #dabi x female reader #touya headcanons #mha touya #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya #dabi x y/n #dabi x reader smut #dabi x reader headcanons #dabi x you #dabi soft #english is not my first language #english is not my native language

[honeybubblebeeeeee]

Coming Home || Dabi x reader

Dabi has been missing since the raid on the League's base

Days had gone by since the League's base had been raided. A few of those who resided there had been captured, or killed. The news was updating the events daily, new discoveries and arrests but I only watched for one thing, him.

Dabi had been there. I had seen him on the tv. His blue fire ablaze as he fought back against the heroes but eventually the cameras stopped focusing on him and that was the last I'd seen of him.

He had a key to my apartment, which he used regularly even though he refused to move in with me. I had texted and called his phone more times than I could count but he never answered and it never even rang.

I never really slept either since he'd been gone. If I did sleep it was on the couch in the living room with the tv on. I had hoped I would somehow wake if they brought up Dabi.

The night went on. I tried to do some work on my laptop but couldn't help but stare at the tv, scanning the footage I've seen probably a hundred times by now just hoping to catch a glimpse of him that I might have missed. Some indication of his health.

At some point I had fallen asleep, the tv still played as I slept uncomfortably on the couch. A loud noise woke me as I sat up, the front door wide open. The coat rack that usually stood beside the door wasn't there. I stood abruptly to look past the couch.

I could have cried.

I moved quickly as Dabi tried to pick himself up from where he was sprawled on the floor. I placed my hands on his side as I rolled him onto his back, he groaned at the movement. Words were lost as I looked him over. Some of his staples were missing, blood stained his skin, whether it was his own or someone else's was hard to tell. His eyes slowly blinked open.

"hey dollface." He tried to smile but winced as blood spilled from his wounds.

I had a million and one questions but he wasn't looking good. I moved quickly, closing the front door and running down the hall to the bathroom, turning on the shower and running back to where Dabi laid. His eyes closing.

I cupped his face as his eyes forced open. "Hi baby, I need you to stay awake for me, okay?"

He shook his head slightly as I helped him sit up. "I'm alright don't worry about me."

Typical of Dabi to be stubborn even when in such a state. I helped him up and slowly helped him walk as he limped to the bathroom. Leaned him up against the sink, as I moved to make sure the water was at a proper temperature.

"We gotta get these clothes off you" I moved to slowly pull his jacket down his arms.

"I mean I missed you too doll but I don't think I can perform at this very moment." His voice was weak as he tried to joke, typical of him to act unserious in a moment like this.

"Dabi could you be serious for a single second." I threw his jacket into the hallway, his t-shirt torn in places, the fabric darker from soaked up blood. He winced as I got him out of the rest of his clothes and settled him into the bathtub. He relaxed as the warm water softly washed away the past couple of days.

I moved to the bedroom, pulling out clean clothes and leaving them on the bed, as well as some black towels. I dropped them in the bathroom, making sure he was still breathing, as I pulled out the large medbag I kept in the closet. Dabi had showed up in a similar state many times before and at this point I was prepared. The relief of him appearing finally still lingered but now wasn't the time to act on it.

I grabbed the shower head and kneeled beside him, turning it to a softer setting and using a small soft cloth and soap to clean up the wounds as best as I could. His eyes followed my movements, his body relaxing.

I worked quickly to remove broken staples and replace them with new ones, Dabi didn't wince, mostly used to the feeling at this point. I covered the few cuts he had, thankfully he seemed to mostly escape with minor injuries. His lack of energy and disappearance was probably from the toll his quirk had on his body.

Cleaned up and bandaged. I helped him up, dried him off and got him into a pair of sweats before he flopped onto the bed and closed his eyes. He was safe, he was alive, I'd let him rest and hound him tomorrow with questions.

I had my own shower to clean off the blood, cleaned up the bathroom and threw away his destroyed clothes. Righted the coat rack and shut off the tv.

Dabi still laid in the same position, his chest rising and falling. I moved to the bed to lay beside him, the light from the lamp illuminating his skin that was slowly returning to his normal colour from the pale look he had only a couple hours ago. His head turned to look at me, a soft smirk on his face.

"Come here darling." He lifted his arm and tapped my head to move to him.

I inched towards him and rested my head on his shoulder as he held me.

"I was so scared I wouldn't see you again." My voice came out barely above a whisper.

"You can't get rid of me that easy." He kissed the top of my head.

"Touya..." He sighed and tiled my head up to look at him.

"I know, I'm sorry. I lost my phone in all of the chaos and I was so burned out after I couldn't move for literally an entire day. Everyone went underground so I was left to my own devices." His voice sounded tired. Not just physically but mentally, I know he had goals but it was taking a toll on him.

I cupped his face and kissed him. "You should stay with me from now on." He seemed to be considering it and pulled me closer.

"You don't want me all up in your space all the time doll. You'll get tired of me." He closed his eyes but I sat up and glared at him. He peaked one eye open and sighed. "I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to lead any of those losers back here. I'm safe with you. I don't want to compromise that." He rubbed his hand down my arm before pulling me back against his chest.

"I feel safest with you, when you're here." I whispered back to him.

He seemed to think on it for a moment and then squeezed me against him forcing a giggle out of me. "Alright doll, you convinced me but you need to promise me a couple things?"

I looked up at him and nodded as he looked down to me.

"One, if any of those idiots even catch wind of you or where you live, you're moving. Two, if you're working late I'm coming to get you, the weirdos come out at night even more since the raid. And three, you can't ever get rid of me." He stared at me with a cheeky smirk on his face.

I pretended to ponder, deep in thought. "You're right sounds like a lot, never mind." I rolled over and he grabbed me pulling me back as I laughed.

"Like I said sweetheart, you're stuck with me." He kissed my cheek as he reached over me and turned the lamp off.

(also send requests! i appreciate them they help smmmm with writers block <3)

#dabi fic #dabi x reader #mha dabi #dabi my hero academia #dabi fluff #dabi x y/n #dabi x you #touya todoroki #dabi imagine #dabi headcanons #bnha dabi #dabi

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

There For You

Summary: When Dabi gets sick at your place, he lets a couple of his walls come down, but there’s a thin line of how close he’s willing to let you get to him.

Genre: angst, pining, established relationship

CW: cursing, mentions of the flu/sickness, suggestive

Word Count: 2,860

"You're still burning up, but it's less than yesterday," you sigh heavily, hand pressed to the man's forehead as he huffs and brushes away your arm.

"I run hot; it's nothing," Dabi dismisses, sweat making his dark hair stick to his skin, his shirt and pants long since discarded in an attempt to keep cool. "Besides, I'm fucking shivering. I'm not worried about overheating," he mumbles, and you shake your head at him, already planning on getting another blanket from the living room.

"Shivering is part of the fever, Dabi. You know that. You probably didn't do yourself any favors by taking that hot bath last night," you scold gently. He huffs again but doesn't argue further, pretty blue eyes fluttering shut.

You'd never admit it, but you were glad he was here like this. You'd known he wasn't himself when he'd shown up unannounced two days ago. He'd been fidgety and clearly exhausted as he curled up around you, but it wasn't until you woke up to the man draped over you, drenched in sweat and hotter than any human should be, that you realized how sick he was.  

He'd protested when you'd woke him up in a panic, insisting he needed to let you get him medicine, insisted that he was fine. That is until his legs gave out at the doorway of your bedroom, and he'd dropped to his knees and admitted maybe he should stay.

Since then, it had been a cycle of medicines, showers, sleep, and food. If it had been up to Dabi, he'd have just slept the entire time, insisting he could handle his fever, even when he started to worry you.

The second night had been the hardest, when his body had started to reject anything he'd put in it, and you'd both spent the night hours sleeping in the bathroom- him in a nest of blankets on the floor and you in the bathtub. You'd been awake more than he had that night, ensuring he was still breathing and his temperature hadn't risen every few hours.

He'd started to refuse food, and it had taken everything in you not to sit on him and shove it down his throat, choosing to bargain with the sick man instead. Eventually, he'd accept saltines and nothing else, which had been enough for you.

You could remember clearly when the delirium had set in that night. Those tired blue eyes trained on you as he sat against the bathroom wall, sweat dripping down his face as he pressed a blanket further around himself.

"You're beautiful," he'd murmured sleepily, and you dragged your weary gaze to his. "I mean it. Can't believe you let me stay here. Let alone fuck your brains out regularly. Could be bagging pro-heroes with that face."

You'd just rolled your eyes and ignored his rambling for the next forty minutes until sleep thinned your patience, and you leaned over the edge of the tub to press a finger against his mouth, effectively shutting him up so the both of you could sleep.

"Hey. Don't look so worried." Dabi's voice drew you back to the present, where you stood with a bottle of ibuprofen, meaning to check when he could take another dose. "I'm not dying more than usual."

You glared at him at his words, and he shot you a knowing grin. "Glad you feel good enough to make those kinds of jokes," you muttered, setting the bottle back down on the table next to your bed. "Think you're up for a shower while I make you soup?" you pressed, and he paused for a moment before giving a slight nod, groaning as he sat up.

"You just love to get me naked," he taunted, shooting you a grin- although it showed just how tired he was, it still made your heart flutter. You paused in the doorway to turn and give him a sweet smile as you spoke.

"Dabi, baby, with all due respect, you stink," you informed him with a wrinkle of your nose, laughing softly when he flipped you off in response.

The past few days had been a blur of microwaved meals and crackers, and it suddenly dawned on you just how little you'd actually eaten. You hesitated as you looked through your fridge for something quick, your gaze landing on the chicken you'd meant to eat two nights ago. You sighed, pulling out the Tupperware container to throw it out as you pushed aside condiments to find other food that would soon spoil.

You straightened suddenly as you pushed aside onions, hot sauce, and soy sauce, reminded of a soup recipe from your childhood. Mentally you ran through the ingredients, checking them off as you found them in your fridge and cupboards, gathering them onto your counter.

Biting your lip, you glanced at the time, warring with yourself on whether you would be able to make it before Dabi inevitably reappeared. Your decision was made when you thought about all the money you'd be wasting if you didn't use some of your produce in your fridge soon.

You got to work quickly, chopping vegetables as you let water and broth boil on the stove, adding herbs and sauces. You lost track of time as you cooked, humming quietly to yourself, and jumped when a pair of warm hands landed on your hips.

"Sorry I took so long. What're you doing?" Dabi rasped quizzically, water dripping from his hair onto his shirt as he released you, puzzled when he watched you turn off the stove and grab a bowl.

"I made soup," you shrugged, watching from the corner of your eye when he peered into the pot, eyes widening.

"You made this?" he repeated, watching as you filled a bowl and handed it to him. He eyed the bowl suspiciously, and you stifled a laugh, giving him a spoon and gently pushing him to your small dining room table.

"It's not a big deal, Dabi. I had the ingredients and figured we both could use a break from canned soup and microwaved meals," you joked, grabbing yourself a bowl.

He said nothing, and you watched nervously as he stirred his spoon around the bowl for a moment before hesitantly taking a bite. His eyes widened as he groaned, mumbling under his breath.

"Holy fuck," he dug in quickly, and you smiled softly, shaking your head as you ate in the kitchen, cleaning your mess as you went. You gave him a gentle smile when he returned to the kitchen with an empty bowl, sheepishly gesturing to the pot.

You nodded, returning to cleaning as he poured himself a second helping, hiding your smile. It wasn't often you could surprise Dabi, even less often that he was so at ease, and you couldn't help the way it made you feel when it happened. He paused before he left, tugging you in by your hip so he could press a lingering kiss against your forehead before releasing you and returning to his spot.

Minutes passed as you finished wiping down the counter, and Dabi spoke up quietly, halfway through his second bowl. "You didn't need to put in so much work for me."

You laughed softly, wiping your hands on a towel before you turned to speak to him, walking around to his side of the table.

"I just figured it had been a while since someone made you a home-cooked meal," you murmured quietly, bending down to press your lips to his forehead. The action was intended to allow you to discreetly feel his temperature, but all you could feel was how he stiffened at your words.

A heavy silence suddenly settled between the two of you, and you pulled back quickly as he sat silently. You can tell you messed up, revealed too much, and struck a nerve all at once.

You move back to the sink, busying yourself with cleaning the dishes as you sneak a couple glances at him. He's staring down at the bowl, shoulders tight and his gaze unreadable, stormy as he thinks.

You want nothing more than to apologize for your careless words, to smooth away the angry wrinkle between his brows, but you don't. It wouldn't help. You'd learned early on that there were things you couldn't fix.

You're all too aware that loving Dabi sometimes means letting him hurt.

Not that you'd never tell him that's what you felt for him.

Love.

A stupid, four-letter word that had enough power to send him far from your arms if you slipped up and said it.

Because for Touya, love was the worst mistake of all. It meant he had to reveal the softest, most breakable parts of himself. It meant he had to care about something in his life that wasn't just revenge. And that simply wasn't something he was interested in, despite all the nights spent in your arms, in your bed.

You shake yourself, realizing you'd been scrubbing the same spoon for a ridiculously long time, and sigh, dropping your head for a moment. You look back at Dabi to see him watching you, his expression guarded as he takes another bite.

"I'm gonna head to bed," you murmured, ignoring the surprised look he shoots you.

You can't bring yourself to look at him, brushing past him instead to hurry down the hallway to your bedroom. Guilt and hurt gnawed at you as you changed into pajamas, and you hesitated before slipping his old T-shirt over your head. At this point, you wouldn't be surprised if he was gone before you woke up. At the very least, you'd get to keep a piece of him this time.

You ignore him when he comes into your room, eyeing you cautiously as you give him space. So you're surprised when he crowds you in the bathroom as you're drying your face, hands winding around your waist as he hooks a chin over your shoulder.

"You look good in my shirt," he rumbled, eyes avoiding yours when you looked at him in the mirror's reflection. His hands slip under your shirt to spread over your stomach, his pinky brushing along the underside of your breast, and you can't help the way you lean into it, sighing softly. He presses a kiss behind your ear, and then another one lower, and another, trailing a path down your neck.

"Dabi, baby, wait," you protest weakly, eyes squeezed shut as you try to focus with the way his lips latch onto the sweet spot on your throat, sucking a dark bruise onto it.

"Wanna thank you properly," he dismisses, spinning you around to face him. He doesn't give you a second to think before his hands grip the back of your thighs and lift you to wrap around his hips.

His lips are back on your skin as he walks, but you don't miss how he's breathing harder than usual or how his hands are shaking after he sets you down on the bed.

His movements are rushed as he settles between your legs, and it's only when he sits back to grip the waistband of your pajama shorts that you get a clear look at his face.

"Dabi, stop." you rush, hands grabbing his wrists as he freezes, pain-filled eyes rushing to meet yours. "I'm not fucking you. Not while you're clearly still sick," you soothe, expecting relief to flood the man's face.

"I don't understand," his tone is suddenly cold and detached as he sits back on his heels, hands curled into fists against his thighs.

You struggle to sit up at his words, your brows drawn down in confusion. "Don't understand what?" you press, reaching for his hand. He shifts out of your reach subtly, but his message is clear, sending a pang of hurt through you that you try to swallow down.

"In the kitchen, I thought you were upset because I didn't thank you right. I thought-" Dabi clamps his mouth shut suddenly as he turns his gaze away from you, jaw set.

You search his face for a moment, trying to connect the dots before it clicks. "Oh."

You don't mean for it to come out the way it does, and you can see his jaw tighten again as he begins to move away, and you shoot forward, hand curling around his wrist to stop him. If you let him go now, there's no telling when he'd return.

"Touya," You murmur softly. There's a reason you hardly use his birth name despite being given permission to, and you're reminded of that when he flinches at the sound falling from your lips.

"I didn't mean to sound so judgemental," your fingers slip up over his skin until you're cupping his cheek, forcing him to look at you as you speak. His gaze is clouded, eyes puffy from lack of sleep, and you can see weariness eating away at him now more than ever.

His expression doesn't shift, and it's as if he's looking right through you. You're firmer this time when you call his name, both hands cupping his face and forcing him to look at you.

"I'm not taking care of you because I expect you to crawl into my bed as thanks. I'm not taking care of you because I think you'll owe me after. I'm taking care of you because you eventually have to let someone do it, and I... I care," you admit quietly.

Because I love you and just want you to know that.

You don't say those words out loud, no matter how badly your heart is screaming at you. You ignore it as you brush a damp strand of hair from his forehead, his gaze softer now, relieved.

"I'm sorry," he begins to murmur, but you shush him, giving a slight shake of your head.

"No need to apologize. Just... don't forget that I'm here for you, okay? Not what you could do for me," You bite your lip, afraid that you're getting too close as you drop your gaze and hands from his face.

He hums in response, tilting your gaze back to his, and for the first time in a while, when you look at him, all you see is openness. No walls to break down, no hurt and fury vying for his attention. And for a split second, you wonder if he's as much in love as you are.

"Can I kiss you?" he rasps, and you nod, uncaring at this moment if he gets you sick. You just want to feel him. He leans in easily, his lips barely brushing over yours as he speaks, almost too low to hear him when he speaks. "Don't want to lose you,"

You want to pull away, want to ask him what he means, not even sure if you heard him correctly, but then he's slotting his mouth over yours in a kiss that steals all the air from your lungs.

Most of Dabi's kisses leave you breathless, but this one is different. There's more meaning behind it than the man in front of you can say, but it's as if he's trying his best to show you. A hand cups the back of your neck to guide you until your head hits the pillows again, his lips never leaving yours. His hands slide down your arms before entwining his fingers with yours and pulling them against his chest, right above where his heart is pounding.

He's gentle as he flattens your palm over the spot, nose bumping yours when he pulls away with a shaky breath, pressing feather-soft kisses over your cheeks and eyes before he sits up. He keeps your hand over his heart for a moment longer before lifting it to press one last lingering kiss to the inside of your wrist.

His blue eyes never waver from your face as he moves, and part of you wants to look away, to run from the intensity of his gaze, but you don't. He gives you one last soft kiss before he swings a leg off the bed, groaning as he stands.

"I'm going to go shower again; feel free to get some rest, doll," he invites, and you sit up as you watch him gather clothes to sleep in.

"No hot water, right? Just warm?" you remind him, and he laughs softly, coming around to your side of the bed again to press a kiss to the top of your head.

"Got it, doc. Get some sleep. I'll be back soon," he soothes. You watch him go, listening to the shower turn on a moment later.

You're already half-asleep when he returns, but you turn into his arms when he slides under the covers beside you, your head nestled under his chin.

He sighs deeply, and your breathing falls into sync with his as sleep begins to claim you, surrounded by his warmth and scent, partially masked by the smell of your shampoo.

You almost miss his words, whispered to what he assumed was just himself in the darkness.

"How the hell am I supposed to stop loving you?"

#dabi angst #dabi x reader #dabi x you #touya x reader #todoroki touya #dabi todoroki #dabi mha #touya mha #dabi fluff #t.writes #t writes #thecowboyanon writes #cowboy anon writes #mha dabi #mha touya #bnha dabi #dabi fic #mha fic #touya fic #mha fanfic #dabi fanfic #touya fanfic

[mysoncookie]

BNHA Dabi Must Reads

Time Travel - Where I Adopt a Bunch of Brats by ILoveMyths2003

╰┈➤ Available on Ao3, Complete, Time Travel Fix-It, Dabi Centric, Dabi is not a villain, Dabi Redemption, Found Family, Fluff, Angst & Hurt/Comfort, Extremely Slow Romance | Wordcount: 140,894

╰┈➤ Has an On Going Series Called "The World Of Tomorrow"

In Which Dabi Realizes He's too Pretty for Villainy by azurefaeblue

╰┈➤ Available on Ao3, Complete, Not Canon Compliant, Pretty Dabi, Scarless Dabi, White Haired Dabi, Hawks is a Simp, Crack | Wordcount: 3,435

╰┈➤ Has an On Going Series Called "In Which Dabi Achieves His Dream of Becoming a Trophy Wife"

area cryptid upset no one bothered to inform him of his tragic backstory by crimsonseekers

╰┈➤ Available on Ao3, Complete, Amnesiac Dabi, Crack Treated Seriously, Identity Reveal, Hero Public Commission Bashing | Wordcount: 47,710

In Which Dabi’s Tits Save the League and Dismantle Hero Society by azurefaeblue

╰┈➤ Available on Ao3, On Going, Social Media, Crack, POV Outsider, League of Villains as Family, Not Canon Compliant, Crack Treated Seriously | Wordcount: 23,688

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

these are my fav fics from BNHA! you can tell who my fav character is based on all of these fics ksksksksk

I know its a short list but these are fics that I genuinely enjoy & reread all the time. I'll prolly update this list cuz I aint satisfied with this being so short but idk we'll see

#fic rec #fic recommendation #fic recs #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha #bnha dabi #dabi #dabihawks #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #dabi is touya #league of villains #ao3fic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #time travel #touya x keigo #dabi x hawks #todofam #natsuo todoroki #rei todoroki #enji todoroki #fuyumi todoroki #dabi fanfic #dabi fic #fanfic #mha eraserhead #bnha fanfiction

[doumadono]

Warnings: smut, rough p in v, fingering, some handjob, f!reader, spanking, semi-public sex Synopsis: you and Dabi snag an invite to a party Shigaraki's throwing. Realizing your wardrobe lacks the glam, you strong-arm your boyfriend Dabi into a shopping spree. Despite initial reluctance, he tackles things in his own, cocky style A/N: this little fic was written in honor of the birthday of my incredibly gifted mutual - @dabismoon - I hope you'll enjoy this petite one shot ♥

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

The heap of garments had amassed on the bed, growing steadily as you sifted through the wardrobe, discarding outfit after outfit. The frustration bubbled within you, reaching its peak as you bellowed to Dabi in the adjacent room.

"I can't find a single thing to wear for the party tonight!" you exclaimed, your voice carrying the tone of exasperation.

A mumbled response reached your ears, prompting you to traverse the distance and find Dabi, your villainous boyfriend, lounging indifferently with a beer in hand, fixated on the television screen. His nonchalant demeanor was evident as he puffed on a cigarette, seemingly uninterested in your sartorial predicament.

Without much enthusiasm, he nodded in acknowledgment of your complaint, casually remarking that he was sure you could surely find something suitable to adorn yourself for the fucking party Shigaraki had coerced every League member into attending.

Determined, you declared, "Ok. I've decided that you're taking me shopping... no arguments!"

Dabi attempted to dissuade you, gesturing towards the television where news about Endeavor played, as if it held greater significance. "Babe, seriously?"

Disregarding his protests, you seized his lengthy coat, your car keys, and his hand, urging him towards the door despite his low growls, not bothering yourself to turn the TV off.

"Doll, you've got a plethora of clothes, and you still claim to have nothing to choose from? That's utterly ridiculous," Dabi groaned, wresting his hand free, swiftly disposing of his cigarette in a crystal ashtray. With an unhappy grimace etched across his face, he begrudgingly adorned his coat. "I won't be dressing up like a fucking fool just to mingle with those lunatics," he grumbled, his discontent palpable.

After three hours of aimless meandering through a plethora of shops, the details of each one eluding your memory, you stumbled upon a dress that tickled your fancy. Amidst the sea of countless dresses tried on in pursuit of the perfect ensemble, you finally discovered one that resonated with your taste. Eager to see how it would adorn you, you headed for the changing rooms. En route to the fitting room, you deftly accumulated a selection of lingerie as well.

Thoughts of acquiring alluring lingerie danced in your mind, contemplating the ways you could model them for Dabi — whether in person or through the lens - to keep him company during those prolonged missions with the League. A stack of lingerie, featuring neon shades, delicate baby pinks, and enticing black lace, awaited your scrutiny.

As you boldly pulled back the curtain, Dabi made a move to follow you inside. A quick about-face, a dismissive shake of your head, and a pointed indication toward a chair stationed just beyond the dressing area thwarted his entry.

Dabi complained, "So I don't even get the fun bit of watching you change to brighten up this fucking unnecessary trip?"

However, it was futile - you insisted he wait over there. With the realization that he couldn't join in the fashion spectacle, you swiftly snapped pictures of each lingerie piece as you were trying them on. Seeking Dabi's discerning opinion, you bombarded him with inquiries regarding your sartorial choices. After the final snapshot found its way to your boyfriend's inbox, an air of suspense hung in the digital ether. Yet, as the seconds ticked away, there was no immediate response from Dabi, leaving you with a frown crossing your forehead.

As you cautiously peeked outside to ensure he hadn't ventured too far, the thick curtain was unceremoniously thrust aside. And there he stood – Dabi, eyeing you with a hunger akin to a starving predator, meticulously taking in the alluring contours of your body adorned in a provocative lingerie set. The fabric, a blend of black sheer lace with a hint of hot pink trimming, clung enticingly to your form.

The bra, designed with a daring split in the cups, left your nipples exposed, proudly making their presence known in response to the sight before you as they instantly stiffened. An instinctive reaction led you to subtly rub your thighs together, a silent attempt to quell the burgeoning heat within you. Your boyfriend, tall and commanding, exuding an air of nonchalance, leaned casually against the changing room wall, his gaze fixed on you.

Without uttering a single word, Dabi seized the moment, propelling you further into the confines of the changing room. With a deft motion, he drew the curtain close, creating an intimate space.

Dabi deftly took hold of your left nipple, his slender forefinger and thumb teasingly tweaking it.

The heat rapidly ascended along your neck, and your breaths quickened as he leaned in, delivering a fierce kiss and an ardent suck on your pulse point. Lowering his head, his warm mouth enveloped the other nipple with a determination, unleashing a sweet yet sharp sensation at its base. The overwhelming pleasure threatened to elicit sounds of ecstasy, but you fought to maintain composure as delicious waves of sensation cascaded over you. "Handsome," you whispered, barely moving your lips as you slipped one hand into his soft, black hair.

Dabi's free hand, not content with just teasing, boldly tugged aside the lacy panties you had on, inspecting how wet you were getting. His verdict: dripping wet. With a forceful motion, the elastic was yanked down your legs, severing all of his contact from your eager nipples as his attention fell on the panties. In one swift move, they were stripped from your hips and deftly retrieved from the floor.

As though it were the most ordinary sequence of events, Dabi casually unzipped the fly of his black, fitted jeans, revealing a semi-hardened cock. Nonchalantly, he wiped the pre-cum off its reddened tip with the lacy panties, and thrust the fabric into your partially opened mouth. The mingling taste of both yourself and him on the fabric elicited a lascivious moan that escaped your lips.

Dabi's gaze lingered on you for a moment before he smoothly retrieved his own phone, swiftly capturing an image of your aroused state. "Sorry, doll, but you look adorable, all fired up like a cheap whore you secretly are," he remarked, seamlessly sliding his phone back into the rear pocket of his pants. With a sly grin, he pulled the panties out of your mouth, raising them to his nose and inhaling deeply. "Mmmm, absolutely perfect," he growled, stashing the intoxicating garment into the same back pocket. "Guess we're gonna take 'em."

Dabi slipped his hand between your thighs, and you willingly parted them further in anticipation. A dark giggle escaped him at your eagerness. "Look at you, princess, so eager to help me touch that pretty little pussy. What? Is my doll all needy? Moments ago, you didn't want to let me watch you, but look at ya now, eager as never before."

Staring intensely into your captivating eyes, Dabi smoothly slid his long middle finger deep inside your slick pussy, eliciting an immediate moan and causing you to instinctively shut your eyes in response.

"No, no, princess, we ain't gonna play like that. Look at me, I want your eyes on me, now," he commanded, leaning forward to place a tender peck on your forehead.

Complying with his directive, you followed his lead, biting down on your lower lip with enough force to draw a bead of blood after opening your eyes again, looking into his turquoise ones.

For a span of a good minute or two, Dabi expertly fingered you, exploring every millimeter of your pussy until your spongy walls began to clench rhythmically around his finger, a clear indication of your impending climax.

"You ain't gonna get off so easily, doll," he declared, withdrawing his digit and lifting it to your lips. With a deliberate motion, he parted your lips with his thumb, prompting you to accept his finger into your mouth.

You sucked your own juices off his digit, moaning quietly without breaking the eye contact.

Dabi seized a generous handful of your supple ass, drawing you closer to him in a forceful manner, engaging in a passionate make-out session with you, pushing his pierced tongue down your throat.

Unabashedly, you dared to extend your hand, wrapping it around his now fully-erect cock, expertly jerking it while rising onto your tiptoes for a more comfortable angle.

Your actions proved successful as Dabi moaned into your mouth, punctuating the moment with a couple of spanks on your ass before tenderly squeezing the supple flesh, indulging in a thorough massage.

In the next instant, he decisively detached your hand from his throbbing cock and pivoted you around, urging you forward until you were facing a lengthy mirror.

Dabi positioned your hands high on either side of the mirror, granting you a comprehensive view of your entire form and his presence looming behind you in the reflective surface.

In a hushed tone, he murmured, "Now, we don't have much time, baby. You wasted too much time already wandering throughout all those stupid stores and teasing me like a bitch you are. I'm going to fuck you hard and cum deep inside you. Do you understand?"

Meeting his gaze in the mirror's reflection, you nodded in affirmation.

"Good," he declared, punctuating his words with another firm spank on your ass. His hand deftly secured your left cheek, spreading it as he gripped his throbbing member. With the tip of his cock, Dabi traced an enticing path up and down your exposed entrance, your juices already glistening and trickling down your thigh.

Without delay, he forced your cunt open with his rigid shaft, delivering a single, powerful thrust that brought him to the hilt inside you. "Fffuuuuccckkk," Dabi breathed out through gritted teeth.

Any potential scream was mercifully muffled by his hand wrapping around your neck, applying a tight squeeze that momentarily restricted your airflow. "Don't you dare moan like you do back home. Our neighbors are accustomed to your bitchy moans and whines, but here people are not, yeah? And the last thing I need today is getting caught with my dick stuffed in your tight cunt," he warned, nibbling your earlobe.

You were relentlessly slammed into, the force akin to a piston driving into your pussy again and again and again.

Dabi's hands greedily explored your soft flesh - your breasts, hips, belly, occasionally slipping between your thighs to playfully tease your swollen clitoris.

Little moans escaped your lips as you pressed your cheek against the cold glass, the surface already fogging up from the intensity of your heavy breathing.

Dabi, panting with an intensity akin to a dog in heat, delivered hard spanks to your ass and the back of your thighs. "You enjoy it when I take you rough like this, don't ya, doll? Hmm? Oh yeah, ya love it. You're quite the dirty whore," he chuckled into your ear. "Don't worry, daddy will fuck you the way you crave the most, princess."

Dabi intensified his rhythm, a firm grip on your hips as he relentlessly thrust into your slippery cunt.

The only sounds resonating within the confines of the changing room were a harmonious blend of your mixed gasps and moans, accompanied by the resonating slap of flesh against flesh, each time his weighty balls hit the curve of your supple ass.

"Dabi..." you whined, already breathless.

Smack, smack, smack! A sequence of forceful spanks landed on your ass. "Address me properly, princess, or I'll have to think of a punishment, and trust me, you won't want that," Dabi growled, sinking his teeth into the column of your neck.

"Daddy," you whispered, your mouth parched from moans and panting, the act of swallowing causing a sweet ache. "Harder," you pleaded. "Harder."

"Mmmm," Dabi slowed his thrusts, his cock reaching deep within you, the tip delicately grazing your cervix as he came to a complete stop. "I knew you had a wild side, little whore, but now you've surprised me. Daddy's going to fulfill your wish," he declared with a sultry promise.

And thus, it commenced. Without delay, he placed a hand on your head, pressing you more firmly against the mirror. The intensity escalated, his hips snapping with relentless determination.

"Oh my God," you managed to utter as you slid a hand between your legs, tracing delicate circles over your slick-covered folds.

Slap, slap, slap! Each thrust felt harder and deeper than the last. His strong hand seized a handful of your hair, pulling you further onto his pulsating dick as he forewarned, "Princess, I'm gonna cum. Daddy's going to coat your sweet cunt with his seed."

Bracing yourself, you endured a final series of sloppy thrusts as Dabi's grunts reverberated down your ear. Rising on your tiptoes, you attempted to accommodate the force emanating from his groin. "Cumming, cumming, fuck," Dabi aggressively grunted, and came deep inside of you, his warm, thick semen spurting from the slit of his tip, painting your spongy walls until they were all adorned in a coating of white.

After withdrawing, Dabi took a moment to appreciate his job, observing the mix of his cum and your juices as they dribbled from your well-used hole.

Depleted and breathless, you whimpered, "I need to drink something, my mouth's dry, Dabi…"

"I'll get you water," he responded casually, extracting panties from his back pocket to once again clean himself off. "You were such a filthy whore, doll. Just the way I like ya the most," he added, punctuating his words with a playful spank that made you yelp as he seemingly heated up his palm, leaving a vivid red mark on your ass cheek. "Get fucking dressed now, we only have an hour to get back home and get ready for that fucking party."

Dabi gathered a few bras and panties before leaving you in the changing room.

As you slid your knickers back on, you smeared the cream of your mixed fluids between your puffy cunt lips. You bit down on your knuckle to stifle a reaction to coldness brought forth by the slick wetness.

You haven't cum so hard such in a good two days, you thought to yourself.

Once dressed, you exited the fitting room only to spot Dabi at the checkout, purchasing every item you had tried on. A self-satisfied grin played on your lips, met with a nod from him. Ah, you already had a plan in mind for how you'd repay him.

#dabi smut #dabi #dabi x reader smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #touya todoroki smut #dabi x you #anime smut #bnha smut #dabi fic #mha dabi #touya todoroki #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #dabi mha #dabi fanfic #mha smut #bnha dabi #divider by cafekitsune #smut writing

[harleys1nhawaii]

LATE NIGHT SNACK [dabi / touya todoroki x f!reader]

whenever dabi is in bed with you and he can’t sleep, he just starts grabbing, you know, just a little bit. his hands are roaming around your curves and he’s gently squeezing. it feels a little softer than what he’s used to. maybe you took a hot bath. he doesn’t really remember the last time he fucked you in your sleep and now that his cock’s burning with a desire of it, he got more to mind about than these little details.

he’s inpatient, he never really gave two fucks about his partners on regular days. but your connection with him taught him gentleness and how to weigh his actions.

he starts off slow, considering vigilant, pulling your panties down your bare legs, reaching into your baggy t-shirt and rubbing your bare tits. you mumbled something he couldn’t really form into words and just seconds later, you turned your head to the opposite side, drifting back to sleep. “cute.” he let out a silent cackle, feeling his boner harden by the sight of your bare chest, going up and down everytime you breathe.

his index finger slides inside your folds while his thumb slowly begins to rub your clit. the insides of your thighs prickle by the unexpected heat of his hand. your walls unawarely suck him in and squeeze around his fingers as he adds a 3rd one. he feels it getting soaked with every single slow thrust, feeling his boner stretching the fabric of his boxers. he pulls his throbbing cock out with his other hand, pumping it as the precum leaking from the tip.

blue flames shines on his jacob’s ladder, veins popping out. after a few times of rubbing his cock on your soaked pussy, he replaces the fingers inside with his bulge. your lips part open, softly whining at the larger stretching sensation. he picks up his pace, placing his hand inside of your right thigh and rubbing your tit with the other. his face appears in the crook of your neck, gently sucking and biting on the skin, low grunts audibly clear in your ear.

your eyes decide to open, trying to comprehend the situation. you let out a moan, being caught off guard by his thrusts inside your tight walls. he raises his head just above yours, smirking at the bewildered look on your face. frantically palming the sheets below, you gaze up at his blue irises, unable to form words. his grin transforming into a big pedantic smile, he presses his lips on yours and doesn’t let go until you struggle for the lack of oxygen.

“good morning, doll.”

#ao3 dabi #bnha dabi #dabi headcanons #dabi imagine #bnha touya #dabi angst #dabi bnha #dabi drabble #dabi fic #dabi smut #dabi x reader #dabi x y/n #yandere dabi #mha dabi #dabi todoroki #dabi mha #dabi fluff #dabi is touya #dabi x female reader #dabi x reader smut #dabi x you #touya headcanons #mha touya #touya todoroki x reader #toya todoroki #touya todoroki #touya x reader #touya fluff #dabi soft #dabi

[missmeinyourbones]

IN LITTLE WAYS, WHEN EVERYTHING STAYS

a/n: rei got the kids the fuck out of that house au, maybe a little prequel to my where love lives au? reader referred to as she & girlfriend a few times, sibling tendencies amongst the rokis

In the streaky reflection of his bedroom vanity, Touya's mind circulates the same thought over and over again.

His shirt looks stupid.

And he doesn't even know what it is exactly that's making him look so fucking weird right now, but he's annoyingly hyperaware of how stiff he looks.

It's just a shirt, a nice one, at that; it's been washed and ironed and its buttons all correlate with one another so why does it look so awkward on him right now?

Just as he's debating between loosening up the collar again or ripping it to pieces, the situation somehow gets at least ten times worse within a matter of mere seconds.

"Are you hanging out with your girlfriend again?"

Like muscle memory, Touya's eyes close in annoyance at the sound of his youngest brother's nasally voice. Not botching to spare him a glance, he chooses to tug at the stuffy shirt collar.

"She's not my girlfriend," is mumbled with what Shouto knows to be both embarrassment and agitation.

"Then why are you wearing that stupid shirt?"

Touya tries, he truly does, to just bite his tongue and be the adult in the situation. Technically (and legally), he is the adult in the situation, but something about the know-it-all ten-year-old always brings out the immaturity in him.

"I think you're lying," Shouto continues, matter-of-factly. Gaming console in hand as his attention darts between what's on the screen and what's reflected in his brother's mirror, "I don't even think she's real."

Touya looks to put out the match before it can even catch fire. In a few strides, he's trudging towards his door and swinging it into motion.

"She's more real than the tooth fairy, I can tell you that--"

Just before he can get the satisfaction of slamming the door in Shouto's dopey little face, a thick wrap of fingers catches the wood before it shuts on its hinges.

Natsuo pushes the door back open with ease, the look on his face clearly amused with the bickering he's heard. When he sees Touya's appearance, he can't help but squint his eyes and lowly whistle.

"Slick. You seein' the girlfriend tonight?"

Nearly seething now at the second intrusion, Touya growls, turning his back on the two idiots in his doorway and returning his attention to the mirror.

"Not my girlfriend," he flatly recites.

The taller brother leans against the doorframe with crossed arms and a smirk that reads no good.

"Is she not your girlfriend because you haven't asked her yet or because she knows she's out of your league?" Natuso's tongue prods at the inside of his cheek in entertainment.

With it now being two against one, Shouto sees his window of opportunity and snottily chimes in, "Probably both."

After a brief glance at his phone and realizing it's nearly time for him to pick you up, Touya doesn't even spare them a glance. He quickly shifts his focus on undoing the highest buttons of his dress shirt.

"Eat shit."

Silence naturally settles amongst the three of them. Natsuo and Shouto make no move to leave their post at the door anytime soon, attention still quietly following Touya as he huffs and puffs around his room, messing up his hair and pulling at his way too rigid selves.

Natsuo, brave as he always has been, is unsurprisingly the first one to break the silence.

"Where are you takin' her that you need to wear that stupid shirt?

Touya knows it's a harmless question, but it bothers him all the same.

"Dinner."

"Where?"

"New place downtown."

Natuso nods in approval, "Are you paying for her?"

"Am I being interrogated?"

"You're paying for her?" Shouto crinkles his nose, "With what money?"

Touya's head doesn't miss a beat as it whips around with a slight smirk, "The money I took from beneath your fuckin' mattress."

"That's not even funny because I don't keep it there anymore--"

The three of them internally wince when the familiar squeak of Fuyumi's bedroom door flings open. On cue, she's tiredly sighing and stomping her way over to the commotion.

Touya doesn't need to see the scowl on her face when he can hear her from down the hallway, "Can you all please shut up before mom--"

She cuts herself off, appearing in the reflection of Touya's mirror with a face that reads a mixture of disgust and confusion.

She looks him up and down, and with the grace that only a sister could carry, delivers the final blow to her eldest brother's ego.

"Ew, why do you look like that?"

That last drop of charity in Touya's tiny heart shrivels up and runs dry when he snaps. "For fuck's sake--like what?"

The three of them watch as their sister gives Touya another once over before meeting his stare directly and scowling.

"Your shirt looks stupid."

In the creaky and muggy second floor of the Todoroki household, the air weighs heavy with sibling stress. Fuyumi glares, Natsuo chokes on a giggle, and Shouto's jaw is on the floor when Touya pinches the bridge of his nose.

"Get the fuck out of my room or I'm setting the house on fire," he exhales rather calmly, given the nature of his alarming (yet common) threat.

Unimpressed, Fuyumi is the first to leave, immediately followed by Shouto who quietly asks her about his own dinner. Natsuo hangs back for a second, continuing to watch his brother rub his calloused hands over his tension-filled face.

Giving up, Touya reaches across his bed and tosses on his old and ratty denim jacket over his nice, stupid shirt. When he catches Natsuo's eye in the mirror, he approvingly nods and shoots his older brother an encouraging thumbs up before, he too, leaves.

It's not two minutes later before Touya's lanky legs are carrying him down the wooden staircase of the house. He's throwing his scuffed boots on, yelling out to Rei about being home before the sun comes up, and taking a final look at himself in the reflection of the porch window before reaching for the door knob.

"Touya," a gentle voice calls as he makes a beeline to leave. To no one's surprise, it's Fuyumi.

He sighs but stops in his tracks anyway, allowing her to quickly scurry over to him. Her nimble fingers rise to fix the cuffed collar of his jacket before she smoothens out his shoulders and pulls taut on his zipper.

When she's deemed he looks acceptable enough, her voice comes as a knowing whisper. "Just ask her already," she prompts.

Touya knows she's right, but he can't help the bite that crawls from his throat when he says, "And what do you know?"

Fuyumi merely smiles and takes a step aside, giving him her stamp of approval and letting him open the front door.

"She seems good for you," she says. Taking one final look at him before turning her back and returning to the kitchen, her voice is warm and proud, "You've started brushing your hair again."

#should i make a masterlist for this mini-series? (odds are i never touch it again LOL) #todobros #todofam #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #dabi x you #dabi x reader #dabi fluff #touya todoroki fluff #dabi fic #touya todoroki fic

[sandiaarts]

#dabi headcanons #dabi smut #dabi is touya #dabi imagine #dabi x gender neutral reader #dabi x plus size reader #dabi x reader #dabi x male reader #dabi x female reader #dabi drabble #dabi fluff #dabi fanfic #dabi fanart #dabi fic #mha dabi #mha touya #touya x y/n #touya headcanons #touya x reader #touya x you #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #mha x reader #mha fanart

[augustinewrites]

for @missmeinyourbones bcs you always say kind things to me!! thank you <3

back when dabi was still touya, he loved watching romantic comedies. 

whenever her shitbag husband was out on an overnight mission, rei would put them on after she’d tucked them all into bed. …or at least she thought she did. because he and fuyumi would sneak out of bed, peeking into the living room from the hall anyway.

once in a while he thinks about it. thinks about the way his mother would let them sit with her, and the way he and fuyumi would giggle when the couple on the screen kissed, and no one reached around to cover their eyes. (but thinking about this brings back that dull ache between his ribs, which is why he doesn’t do it often.)

what he does think about often are the couples on the screen. about the awful clichés and predictable plots. the lovesick schmuck in a suit that’s fresh off a boring 9 to 5, flowers in hand to take his love interest to dinner. 

(thinking back, there was probably a reason for the genre his mom chose, but unpacking all of that would require the help of a shrink he didn’t have the dough to see).

he’s only been thinking about these couples often because of, well, you. if this were a movie, he’d say it was fate that led him to get stabbed and promptly pass out in an alley close to your hospital. you’d nurse him back to health in your cute apartment, saving his life and domesticating him in the process. 

but this wasn’t a movie. and even though you’d saved his life, all he'd done to repay you was bleed all over your rug and steal the change on your counter before jumping out the window. 

and you must have been all kinds of desperate, because when he put his hands into his coat pocket he'd found your number written on a slip of paper.

just in case, you'd written.

he stole a burner phone the next day and, like the couples on the tv say, the rest was history.

you were like a bad habit, because he swore every night he went to see you was supposed to be his last. you were so damn annoying, asking him shit like how his day went and if he'd eaten. offering to wash his clothes like some sort of pervert.

but then he’d tell you he was exhausted and starving from all the felonies he’d committed and you’d let him sleep on your couch. then he’d dip out the next morning with his clothes smelling like freesia or some shit he’d rather die than admit he kinda liked.

and eventually…he was okay with it. okay with you and this stupid love you’d dragged him into. you let him come and go as he pleased, the latch on your window always unlocked just for him, cause no matter what, he always came back. 

but everything is fucked. this city is fucked and this country is fucked, and dabi’s hiding out on the fire escape when you join him.

your shoulder brushes his as you sit next to him on the step, and he doesn’t have to look to know you’ve got that big frown downturning your lips. it’s far from the first fight the two of you have had since starting this…relationship, but it’s the first time he can safely say he’s not sure you’ll bother wanting to salvage it. 

(he thinks that after every fight, actually. but you seem to have this endless patience for him that he doesn’t understand nor deserve.)

hugging your knees to your chest, you ask, “are you going to leave?”

“yeah.” 

“are you coming back this time?” you ask quietly. 

“don’t know,” he shrugs.

you don’t say anything for a long while and neither does dabi. he should just leave, ditch you out on your fire escape and fuck off somewhere into the city. maybe he’d get shitfaced enough to crash at the league’s hideout, or maybe he’d blackmail birdbrain into letting him get shitfaced at his place then crash on his ridiculously expensive couch. he’ll figure it out later.

it’d certainly be easier to leave and figure it out if you yelled and swore, maybe even slapped him a little. 

you don’t do any of those things though, because anger isn’t embedded in your dna like it is in his. instead you give him a look that’s half-pity, half-disappointment, and it stings all the same.

“you always do this,” you sigh, staring straight ahead at the flickering city lights. “whenever this happens, you refuse to talk about it after. and– and when i try to give you space to figure your stuff out…you run.” 

you don’t say it angrily, like you’d be within your right to be. you say it…softly. tiredly. you’re not trying to antagonize him, just stating a fact, and it makes him feel shittier.

“well, ‘s not like ya need me around anyway,” he shrugs. 

you look at him this time, “of course i don’t need you.” 

dabi had said it first, but hearing you say it hurt, strangely. like a faint touch upon a fresh bruise. 

but you’re not done, listing things off on your fingers. “you don’t pay rent, you eat all my groceries, you track your dirty boots through my living room, and i don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but you are a wanted criminal, you know.” 

he chuckles at that. it’s only very slightly, but it makes you break into a smile. “jeez, babe. you sure know how to pick ‘em.” 

“i know,” you hum, nudging his knee with yours. “but that’s my point. i don’t need you. but we– i want you anyway.” 

you offer him your hand, palm upturned, and for a second he doesn’t want to run. he wants to take your hand and let you guide him back inside. wants to cuddle with you in your too-soft bed with all your blankets and the stuffed animals he'd stolen for you.

then he sees the recently patched up burn on your wrist and he’s reminded that he’s stupid. stupid for thinking he could ever have anything past…this with you. 

you follow his gaze, pulling your sleeve down quickly as you murmur, “it was an accident.” 

he’d been running hot. hot like he always did when you fought. then you’d turned away and he’d reached for you, forgetting.

it was an accident, yeah, but you don’t deserve it. 

you want him. but you deserve the schmuck in the suit  who can help you pay rent and buy groceries. 

so he decides that this is the last night. he lets you guide him to bed, and once you’ve fallen asleep, he eases his arm out from under your head to pull the covers up to your chin.  

sometimes his heart is so big that he can’t stand it. he’s letting you go. you’re better off without him—

but you catch his hand as he’s about to slip out of bed, unflinching as your thumb brushes across cool metal. 

“stay,” you murmur, eyes slowly blinking open to peer at him in the darkness. 

“i can’t,” he mutters, averting his gaze from yours.

“stay,” you say a little more firmly this time. “or i swear to god i’m going to call your mother.”

he rolls his eyes, choosing to indulge you one last time (he does not take your threat lightly, either). he lets you plant kisses up the column of his throat and rest you he’d on his chest. but it’s just until he’s sure your out cold, then he’s definitely gone. he’ll be out the window and out of your hair—

“i love you, touya,” you whisper. 

“yeah, whatever, you brat,” he grunts, but he places his hand over yours, turning his head to the side to press a kiss to your forehead before murmuring the words against your skin.

#bnha x reader #dabi x reader #dabi fic #dabi fluff #bnha x you