#todoroki JUST does not care | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wttcsms · 7 months

Text

we play our fantasies out in real life ways ; shouto todoroki.

pairing shouto todoroki x f!reader word count 2.7k synopsis knocking up his sugar baby seems (and feels) like a dream come true for the future ceo and youngest son of japan’s richest conglomerate family. content contains sugar daddy!shouto, yandere themes, car sex, creampie, breeding kink, quirkless au, ceo!shouto, tiny daddy kink author’s notes this is a repost of an old fic but pls tell me we are still horny 4 shouto. also ignore the Tesla promo, i was feeling silly when i wrote this </3

He can have anything he wants, you know.

And of course you know this. Of course you do. It’s hard to ignore this fact whenever he’s the exact reason your closet is overflowing with more dresses than you know what to do with; why your dresser can barely stay shut due to the amount of lacy lingerie you’ve had to shove in them; why you’re a third year college student driving to campus with a brand new Mercedes that technically isn’t even supposed to be out on the market ‘til next month.

He can have anything he wants, and because you’re his, by extension, you have the power to make all your material wishes come true, too. All you have to do is ask him.

All you have to do is look up at him and give him those puppy dog eyes of yours and say, “please, daddy, can I cum?” and he’ll let you. You know he will, because stoic Shouto Todoroki, the future CEO and prized son of the Todoroki clan that happens to be one of the most famous conglomerate families in all of Japan, just can’t seem to say no to you. He signs off multi-billion yen deals as easily as one blinks and running multiple companies is just something he’s been born to do. It’s no easy feat to give commands to such a powerful man.

And yet, one look and a tiny whimper is all it takes to turn him into putty in your hands.

It’s always an out of body experience when you’re with Shouto. Being with him is like constantly being the main character of a movie. He rents out entire restaurants so the two of you can dine away from prying eyes. He sends you good morning and good night texts every single day. (One time you joked about him forcing his assistant to do it because there’s no way a busy man like him would ever have time to do something so insignificant; he didn’t like that you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around the concept of you being someone very important to him.) Shouto is incredibly good to you, incredibly good for you.

He’s incredibly good with a lot of things. Taking care of you, for one. Taking care of all his businesses, for another. And right now, he’s taking real good care of your cunt when he’s got three of his fingers knuckles deep in you.

The windows to his sleek, outrageously priced car are tinted so dark, even you struggle to see through the windshield. You always tell him it’s dangerous, but he reminds you that there are always reasons for the things he does. You wonder if getting tinted windows so he could fuck his college student sugar baby with some semblance of privacy is the reason.

And then all thinking on your end comes to a stop when he nips at the skin of your neck, biting down softly and getting you to let out a tiny whimper. It doesn’t hurt. You don’t think Shouto is even capable of hurting you; not because you’re some unbreakable being, but because you don’t think the calloused hands that have caressed every centimeter of your body is capable of harming you.

The two of you are currently parked in the lot right outside the building where his main office is located. In about ten minutes, the parking lot will be flooded with employees who have just clocked out and are getting ready to speed home. In about ten minutes, anyone could accidentally (or purposely) become a little voyeur to the activities going down in the future CEO’s luxury car.

Your back is pressed against his chest. More often than not, you find yourself naked while he’s practically still dressed, and it’s the same thing that’s happening right now. The buttons on his shirt are digging into your back, but you can’t find it in you to complain. Instead, you focus on gripping the wrist of the hand that’s in between your thighs. The sleeves of his button down shirt are rolled up, and if you take your tiny fingers just a bit higher, you can feel the veins running down his arm.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” The baritone of his voice is smooth, calm, collected — in control. Because you can make any request in the world, and Shouto will fulfill it for you, but that does not mean that you are the one who makes the final decisions. At the end of the day, everything you have, everything that is given to you, is because of him, because of the decisions he makes for you.

His eagerness to gift you the world thinly veils the true depth of your submission to him. A subconscious part of you is well aware of the power imbalance in this relationship, but if all has been well these past two years, then surely it’ll only be smooth sailing from here?

You lean back, leaning into his warmth, breathing deeply to inhale the scent of his spicy cologne that costs more than your textbooks (that he bought for you).

“D-daddy.” You moan out, trying to coax him deeper in your tight little cunt, as if his fingers aren’t already as deep as they can go, spreading out your hole to prep you for what he knows you truly crave.

“You’ve got to speak up, love. I can’t give you anything if you don’t tell me what to give you.” His breath is warm against your ear, and it’s so hot in the car. So, so hot. You wonder if it’s just you feeling the heat, though. Shouto seems as collected as ever, not the least bit uncomfortable at all.

“Mmm — w-want you.” You wriggle a bit in his lap, but his free hand grips your side and squeezes you with a firm, nonverbal command to stop moving. You do, immediately. Because that’s what you always do: follow his command.

“I know you do.” He coos, finally moving his fingers. It’s agonizingly slow, too slow. The car is silent save for your little pants and the obscene wet sounds that come as a result of his fingers thrusting in your wet cunt.

“Faster, daddy.” You whine out, looking up at him. The sun is setting, and despite the tint of the windows, the orange glow from the sun still shines against his smooth skin, casting his face into something that’s half sunset/half shadow. It’s a good look; a sharp contrast that matches his hair. Seeing your blatant admiration of him only spurs him to give in and go faster. He had planned on drawing this out for as long as he possibly could. He had originally wanted to coax you into as many orgasms ‘til you were nothing but a fucked out little mess, too worn out to pay attention or even care when he finishes your little session with you plugged up with his cum.

The lives of children born into the Todoroki family are more cursed than it is blessed, and Shouto had, a very long time ago, made a vow that he would never continue the bloodline. He would have no children, which would be easy because he planned on never having a lover.

And then he met you, started providing for you, realized how much he enjoyed providing, and realized even more that the only way to strengthen this transactional relationship is by forcing your hand. He likes to think that you would stay with him willingly, but there are some chances that he’s just not willing to take; there are some extremes that he’s all too entirely happy to go far to, though.

Your sweet moans mix in well with the lewd sounds of your pussy getting thoroughly fingerfucked. His fingers are so much longer than yours, can reach spots inside of you that you can’t quite reach yourself. He’s efficient with anything and everything he does, and you’re not surprised when he doesn’t slow his pace. The consistent strokes of his fingers, your lowered inhibitions when around Shouto, and the look on his face (equal parts concentration and adoration) all help in making you cum all over his hand.

“Good girl.” Shouto whispers, removing his fingers and holding his hand up. The sunlight beaming through makes his digits glisten even more, and you’re enraptured as you watch him bring his fingers to his lips to suck your essence off of them. Piercing heterochromatic eyes never leave yours as he sucks on them, and you have to turn away from embarrassment. How can he keep such a straight face when literally licking your cum off his fingers?

“Don’t turn away from me.” His hand — still wet — grips your chin and forces you to look at him again. “I don’t like it when you shy away from me.”

You nod meekly, and Shouto sighs.

“You shouldn’t be shy around me. I don’t like making you feel uncomfortable, you know that, don’t you?”

You nod again, a subtle, barely there move. He’s not impressed.

“Answer me properly.” There’s a hard edge to his tone, and you sit up a little straighter. Shouto would never lay a hand on you with the intent to physically harm you, but he’s not above roughing you up during sex. You’ve heard him get this way before, and the imprint of his fingertips and the purple hickeys littering your poor body took three days to fade properly.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You say with a pout, trying to conjure up any sort of leniency he can spare. Judging by his facial expression and the wavering look in his eyes, he’s already softening up. You just have to make it up to him now to have his complete forgiveness.

Maneuvering in the limited space the driver’s seat gives is no easy task, but you manage to shift positions to where you’re straddling his lap, finally facing him properly. He’s leaned back, watching you with a hungry glint in his eyes that makes you feel like the most wanted girl in all of Japan. A surge of heat flows through your body, from the tips of your ears to your cheeks and all the way down to between your thighs. If you were in a different position, you could clench them together, try to rub your thighs in an attempt to ease the need for friction.

Your fingers make quick work of his belt and his zipper, pulling down on both the waistband of his slacks and his briefs to finally free his cock. He’s already hard, and you admire the way your hand can’t even wrap fully around him. The tip is flushed red, pearly beads of precum already present.

This is the part where you look up at him, almost as if you’re unsure about what to do. You don’t know what it does to him, to see you sitting on his lap with his cock looking outrageously large in your tiny hands. He can see your pretty pussy practically dripping all over his slacks. Now’s not the time for you to be playing the role of an innocent, unsure little girl, but then it hits him: you’re asking him for permission. He almost lets out a bark of laughter.

“You’ve already taken it upon yourself to tear into my pants and make a grab for my cock. Surely you don’t expect me to beg to fuck your little hole now, do you?” He has a cold smile on his face as he brings you closer to him. “I thought this was my apology. Don’t tell me you’re going to make me do all the work?”

“O-of course not!” You look startled at the suggestion, eyes going big and round. He looks at you expectantly, as if telling you to do something.

It always burns when you first take him. It doesn’t matter how many times he makes you cums, doesn’t matter how long he spends stretching you out on his fingers. By now, your pussy should have memorized the feel of his dick, should have been moulded to fit him and only him. And while there’s a tiny flash of pain and discomfort for you (which Shouto hates), it’s hard not to be in love with the feel of just how tight you are.

The stinging pain is brief, though, and is easily replaced by one of satisfaction from being stuffed by the prettiest, fattest cock you’ve ever taken in your life.

You moan, rocking your hips back and forth. Maybe this was originally supposed to be an apology to him, but it feels more like you’re using him as your own personal toy, and Shouto really couldn’t care less. After all, if it brings you pleasure, it brings him pleasure.

“Are you enjoying yourself, baby? What would happen if I never met you, hmm? Are you willing to spread those pretty legs of yours for any man?” He says the last sentence with a tone sharper than usual. You shake your head as you continue to rut against him, chasing after your own high because you might not be a simpleminded slut for anyone, but you are nothing more than a cockslut when it comes to Shouto.

“Ah — fuck, fuck, fuck!” You moan out, falling against his chest, burying your face into the space between his shoulder and neck. “D-daddy, fuck!”

He holds you close to him as you cum, not even minding the mess you’ve made of his work pants. “Daddy’s got you.” He coos, his hand finding the back of your neck and squeezing you there, gently. “You must be tired now…”

You’re still too fucked out to really comprehend what’s exactly going on ‘til it’s happening, but even with your slow reaction times, you still manage to let out a slutty moan as you feel Shouto thrusting up into you. It must be uncomfortable, you think. This position doesn’t make it exactly easy for him to chase after his own pleasure, but then you remember that Shouto Todoroki doesn’t back down or break down when it comes to challenges.

He perseveres.

You’re like a rag doll, like a personal little fucktoy, made for him to use (and maybe even break) as he pleases. Every thrust is sharp and intense, and his teeth are clenched as he continues to use you, enjoying the warmth of your tight walls and admiring the ring of white that coats and clings to his dick every time he pulls out.

It doesn’t take him much longer to finally finish; he grabs you by your hips, raising you slightly before abruptly pushing you down on his cock, making sure that he’s nestled as deeply in you as he can be when he finally cums. He’s breathing a bit harder as he comes down, and then he’s grabbing you by your hair, making you stare at him.

His cheeks are flushed, there’s some slight sweat building up on his forehead, his shirt is wrinkled. He’s never looked better. You’ve never felt better.

Or, more accurately, never felt fuller.

“Shouto, did you c…” You can’t even finish the sentence. Did you cum inside? Not like you have to; you know the answer. Some of it is dripping out of you.

All he does is give you that small smile, the one that he rarely lets anyone see, and starts up the car.

If he doesn’t want to talk now, there’s no way you can get him to answer properly. You try to remove yourself from his lap and make your ungraceful, disgusting journey to the passenger seat, but Shouto places a firm hand on your waist, forcing you back down.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Shouto, you can’t possibly drive while I’m sitting here on your lap.”

“I bought a Tesla for a reason.”

Right. Because everything Shouto does has a reason for it.

You think about this on the drive back to his penthouse, a little bit of fear building up in your lower belly. Shouto does everything for a reason, and what’s the reason for any man cumming inside?

#shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #one shot #yandere #smut #shouto todoroki smut #drabble #imagine

2K notes · View notes

bakugosatoru · 5 months

Text

My Hero Academia Boys in Bed

Male Characters

Requests Open!

Warnings: Explicit (Minors don't interact) Genre: Smut Fic Type: Headcannons Fandom: My Hero Academia

Authors Note: I am MORE than happy to write these for other characters so please send requests on who you want to see! I'm trying to write a longer Hawks x Dabi smut fanfiction but its not coming together like I wanted so this is my way to at least share something so I don't loose my mind!

Izuku

If he's the dominant one:

- All he cares about is your pleasure - Prefers positions where he can see your face as he loves peppering it with kisses while he thrusts deep inside of you. - Foreplay, foreplay, foreplay - If he gets the time, he will tease you for hours. - All he wants is to get you whining his name. - The aftercare is next level, baths, snacks, movies, you name it, he's got it ready. - "That's it baby, you take me so well, so good for me."

If your the dominant one:

- Whining - Wants more than anything to be a good boy for you. - The biggest praise kink in the universe. - Loves to cry and beg while you make him feel good. - Gets overstimulated so easily but loves it. - Afterwards all he wants is cuddles and to be told he did a good job. - "Fuck baby, it feels so good... you make me feel so good. Wanna be your toy, be so good for you"

Bakugo

If he's the dominant one:

- He is BIG - The first time you slept together, he was barely able to get it all the way in. - That doesn't stop him from fucking you into the mattress though. - Hard Dom, but massive on communication, so you bet all your kinks are talked out before AND after. - Favorite position is Doggy, he loves to see the moment your arms give out and you fall face first into the mattress so he can fuck you even harder. - Loves to see you cry in pleasure. - He loves wiping your tears as he roughly fucks you, knowing he's the only one who gets to see you like this. - "Does it feel that good baby? Feel how fucking deep I am? You can take it, I know you can"

If your the dominant one:

- The biggest brat in the universe. - Loves to rile you up until your forced to pin him to the bed and put him in his place. - He is LOUD - Loud as in 'Shove his face in a pillow to muffle his moans or you'll wake the whole dorm' loud. - Will never admit it but loves to be edged. Being pushed to the edge of cumming over and over and having to beg to finally cum. - Loves it when you tie his arms behind his back so he's fully at your mercy. - "Baby fuck- please. It hurts please can I cum, i'll be good, i'll be so good please."

Todoroki

If he's the dominant one:

- Rope bondage fiend - Loves NOTHING more than having you tied up for him. - Will spend hours, weaving intricate harnesses and suspension set up for you. - While he does that he is the softest, most doting boyfriend in the world, making sure none of the ropes are too tight and that your comfortable - But after he's finished? He goes feral - Fucks you so roughly, sometime you can barely walk the next day. - Leaves bruises on your hips from gripping so hard and litters your neck in hickeys. - "You look so good tied up for me honey, just made for me. You were made for me..."

If your the dominant one:

- Just wants to leave everything in your hands - Is willing to try anything you think he might enjoy, he loves nothing more than to be totally at your mercy - For such a quiet person, he babbles mindlessly when your in control - All he wants to do is cry your name and tell you how amazing it feels. - You gagged him once, but you missed his pleading so much you quickly decided you preferred to hear his voice. - "Oh my god angel you feel amazing, I love you, I love you, it feels so good please don't stop. Don't stop"

Denki

If he's the dominant one:

- I don't even know if we can call him dominant - This man does not fuck, he makes love and nothing else. - All he wants is to hold you tightly while he fucks into you. - Missionary with him is the most loved you've ever felt, his arms around you, him whispering in your ear how much he loves you while he slowly thrusts himself deep into you. - But don't get me wrong, he will go rough if you ask him too. - He loves to make you ride him, before grabbing your hips and thrusting up into you until you collapse onto his chest. - "God your so beautiful, i want to stay inside you forever. You feel like heaven baby."

If your the dominant one:

- Just wants to be pegged - Seriously, you want to make him happy? Let him ride your strap on while telling him how good of a boy he is. - He wont actually short-circuit but god will it look like it. - His eyes glazed over as he whines helplessly, desperate to cum. - You usually end up taking pity on him and flip him so he's under you so you can fuck him until he finally cums. - "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me please baby, need to cum so bad, wanna cum for you. Please?"

Kirishima

If he's the dominant one:

- The biggest out of all the guys. - Took you three separate attempts to get it all inside and it felt like it was splitting you open. - Kiri held you and kissed your forehead as you adjusted to him. - "Shh, I know honey, just relax, i'll go slow I promise" - When he finally got it all in, he was gentle, making sure to check in as he slowly fucked you, rearranging your organs in the process. - He kissed away your tears and helped you get used to the stretch. When you finally got used to it and gave him the okay, he started to fuck you slowly and hard. - He will not cum unless you have cum at least twice before him. - He will also happily go down on you for as long as you like to help you relax or just prepare for his size. - "How the fuck are you so tight angel, god your squeezing the life outta me"

If your the dominant one:

- Loves to be tied up - Will absolutely loose his mind if you tie him up and just slowly ride him - He loves begging to touch you, or for you to touch him. - Always wants to be holding you, so if you want to punish him, just don't let him and he will melt in your hands. - "Please baby, I just want to touch you, please... fuck you feel so good"

Hawks

If he's the dominant one:

- If you dont end up quivering from overstimulation by the end of it, he wont be satisfied. - He loves to use his wings in the bedroom. Whether his feathers are ghosting over your skin or holding you down, he knows exactly how to use them. - He always want you to sit on his face, he loves to squeeze your hips as you whimper and rock back and forth, riding his mouth. - The best at dirty talk, this man is loud in the bedroom, moaning in your ear, telling you how good you are for him. He can't help it. - Another big fan of missionary, loves to cup your face as he thrusts into you, whispering about how amazing you feel. - "Fuck baby, this pussy was just made for me huh? You like how I feel inside you?"

If your the dominant one:

- After a long day of having to be a confident, powerful hero; all he wants is to be taken care of by you. - He will happily sit, his hands cuffed to the headboard as you slowly ride him to make him feel good. - A slut for overstimulation. Make him cum until he cries and he'll be like putty in your hands. - Wants nothing more than for you to take him apart, break him down to the bone, and put him back together again. - "Fuck baby its so much, I don't think I can cum again, god you feel so good around me... shit-"

#mha x reader #mha smut #bnha smut #bakugo smut #mha headcanons #mha imagines #kirishima smut #hawks x reader #hawks smut #bnha x reader smut #hawks headcanons #bakugo headcanons #NinesWritings

864 notes · View notes

zanarkandskylines · 3 months

Text

Operation: Shut Down

『♡』 fem!reader x bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ Senior year of UA | Characters are all 18 ꒱ ♡ katsuki bakugo masterlist ♡ summary: during their senior year of UA, midoriya, bakugo and todoroki return to endeavor's agency for senior internships. while on a supervised patrol, bakugo experiences his first 'failure' as a hero-in-training and takes it extremely hard. reader makes an attempt to care for his fragile state when he returns to the dorms. tags & warnings: failed mission, ptsd/trauma, mentions of blood/gore/violence, depression & anxiety, mild angst, emotional comfort, semi-fluff, bakugo and midoriya hug!? a/n: similar to the "tidal wave" story, but this one is a bit grittier and heavier subject matter. hopefully this also isn't too OOC for bakugo! i figure at some point during their time at UA, or in the field, they’ll have to go through something similar to this on their own. ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 2,671 ꒱

Ahh, Saturday mornings - one of your favorite times of the week! There's something refreshing about being free from classes, surrounded by all your friends as you laze around the dorms. Yourself and Bakugo are usually the first two awake, often bumping into each other in the kitchen for breakfast. Midoriya and Kirishima are typically next, followed by a random assortment of the rest of the class. One thing's for certain, though, Kaminari is always the last one awake. Jiro swears it annoys the shit out of her that she needs to have an extra alarm to get him up, but he never fails to make her smile when she does.

Today, the dorms are on the quieter side as most of the class are off at their senior internships for a long weekend. You completed yours a few weeks prior, leaving yourself and Kirishima, Kaminari, Ashido and Yaoyorozu hanging around this weekend. Meandering toward the kitchen to grab a bowl of cereal, you run into Midoriya, sitting at the small table - alone.

"Hey! I thought you guys were gone 'til Monday?" you ask, confused as to why he's back early. As you approach the table, you see the somber emotion painted across his face, the usual radiance in his eyes dulled.

"Oh, hey y/n. Yeah, we got back late last night."

There's something unsettling about the way he said "late last night." He still hasn't looked up at you. You place a hand on his shoulder to grab his attention.

"Everything okay?" He jumps a bit at your touch, startling you. He's not typically this jumpy. "You look like you've seen a ghost, Zu."

You can see he swallows nervously, his eyes glued to the table.

"Christ, Izuku! You're scaring me, spit it out already!" you urge, growing impatient with his evasiveness.

Midoriya finally turns to face you, his face not able to hide the fact he didn't sleep last night, the darkness growing under his eyes.

"It's Kacchan...," he starts, stopping for longer than you were comfortable with before continuing quietly. "He's in his room and hasn't come out since last night. He won't talk to me or Shouto."

Your stomach cartwheels with a sour feeling.

"You can't just say that and not give me more background on what the hell you're talking about."

He shifted uncomfortably in the diner chair, placing his head in his hands on the table.

"We were on a supervised patrol with Endeavor after dinner last night. The three of us were responsible for escorting a family across the city when Endeavor received an emergency call, taking Kacchan with him and leaving myself and Shouto responsible for the original task."

Midoriya paused, letting out a soft exhale.

"While on the emergency call, Endeavor ended up getting hurt -," he puts his hands up, waving them as he quickly interrupts himself to say he's fine before putting his head back down. "- due to a fall. Supposedly, the villain they were pursuing took advantage of that as a distraction. Kacchan was able to subdue him..."

Again with the damn pauses.

"...but?" You try not to sound too annoyed, but can't help it. You loved Izuku dearly, but he really needed to learn to get to the damn point.

"...but the civilian he captured wasn't so lucky."

What the hell does that mean?

Something in your gut tells you to sit down for whatever it is he's going to say next. You take the seat next to him, placing a hand on his thigh for reassurance.

"You...don't have to say anything if you don't want to, Zu," your tone shifting from your previous annoyance to concern.

He puts a hand on top of yours and gives it a squeeze. "T-thanks, but it's okay. Maybe you could try to talk with him? I had Kirishima try, too with no luck."

"Okay, sure. Do you wanna tell me what happened, then?"

You're not really sure if you should know, at this point. If Bakugo's locked himself in his room and refuses to speak to anyone? Some serious shit must have happened. He's not one to completely shutdown and isolate himself, let alone from Midoriya and Kirishima.

"The...civilian didn't make it. The villain planted a bomb inside of the civilian as, uh...a backup plan, I guess. It went off as Kacchan was escorting them to the ambulance for evaluation."

Your stomach stirs a second time, afraid to confirm what you think happened. "...so, you're telling me he saw someone...explode?"

He hesitates. "Y-yeah. Endeavor told us he went into shock, which isn't like him at all but completely normal, all things considered. He went non-verbal until we got back last night. He didn't even yell, told us he was going to bed, walked off and slammed the door."

"Fucking hell...do you know if he at least got some sleep on the drive back?"

"Funny enough, yeah. He fell asleep on my shoulder." He smiles faintly, trying to look at the positive in this situation. You can't help but smile, too, imagining Bakugo passed out on him without a care in the world.

Midoriya rubs two fingers against his temple - he's intensely fighting to stay awake. But who could blame him? His best friend just went through something extremely traumatic and he doesn't know the best way to help him.

You rub his back, attempting to calm his visible anxiety.

"Alright, I'll tag in. Please Izuku, go to bed. You need to rest," you assert, knowing that he would keep himself up until he physically couldn't stand if it meant helping a friend - especially Bakugo.

"Yeah. Thank you, y/n," Midoriya says wearily. As he stands, you jump up from your own seat to wrap him in a tight hug. He accepts, sighing into your shoulder as his body deflates into yours.

"Come on, I'll walk you back to your room."

───

After you walk Midoriya back to his dorm room, you go inside with him for a few minutes to be sure he actually gets into bed. He lazily crawls under the sheets, letting you tuck him in as his eyes are fluttering closed. You pat his head and mutter a 'night Zu' as you tip-toe to the door, carefully shutting it behind you.

Jogging up to the 4th floor, you make your way down the hall to Bakugo's room. You stand outside for a moment before knocking twice.

No response.

You give him a few seconds before knocking again.

Nothing. You don't hear any movement on the other side of the door, either. Maybe he's asleep?

One final try before you give up and resort to calling him.

Thudding footsteps are stomping on the floor from inside his room after the third set of knocks. The sudden sound shocks you as the door flies open, Bakugo's scowling face emerging from behind it, the whites of his eyes faintly pink in color. Has he been crying?

"God dammit, nerd! I fuckin' told you -," He doesn't notice it's you right away as he's shouting in your face. Once the realization sets in, he visibly recoils at his mistake. "...sorry. Thought you were Izuku."

"I could go dye my hair and draw freckles on if you wanna yell at me," you joke.

He doesn't laugh - not even an eyeroll.

Your heart sinks.

Neither of you say anything, standing there awkwardly as the air thickens between the two of you. Bakugo audibly exhales and you can't tell if he's annoyed, angry or...sad.

"Can I come in?" you ask humbly.

He says nothing, retreating back into his room - but, he leaves the door open for you. You take that as an accepted invitation, coming inside and closing the door behind you. He sits on his bed, knees tucked up to his chest as he scoots back to the wall.

Seeing Bakugo like this tugs at your heartstrings, despondent and detached, the opposite of any emotions he'd usually carry. You follow him to the bed and quietly ask permission to sit with him.

"Do you want me to sit with you, Kat?"

He doesn't move, just answers with a muted 'whatever.'

As gentle as you can, you climb onto the bed and shimmy next to him, back against the wall. You'll take this as a win, especially since Midoriya mentioned him not answering anyone else. You're about to say something as you hear a sniffle, confirming your suspicions.

Bakugo was and has been crying.

You reach over to put a hand in his hair in an attempt to comfort him. Instantaneously, he smacks your hand away - hard - and a spark jumps off his palm. Normally, he'd let you touch him without an issue - to an extent, of course, but right now? You understand why he wouldn't want any physical touch.

"Okay, I'll sit here as long as you want," you affirm, retracting your hand and pulling your own knees to your chest. "You don't have to say anything."

With that, the flood gates busted wide open. Bakugo whips his head in your direction, his nose red and eyes swollen, and frantically scrambles on to you. The two of you fall sideways into the pillows at the head of the bed as he wraps his arms around you into an awkward embrace. He buries his face in the curve of your neck, latching onto the back of your shirt with an ironclad grip as he begins to sob.

You have never heard him cry this hard over anything, not even after his fight with Midoriya back in their first year.

You don't wait for Bakugo to say anything before you're cradling him against you, one hand delicately stroking his hair while the other massages light circles on his back.

"I've got you, Katsuki, it's okay," you whisper soothingly while trying your damndest to stop yourself from crying along with him. You wish, more than anything in the world, that you could physically remove the memory from his brain to free him of this trauma.

"I'm not going anywhere, I'll stay as long as you want."

He doesn't respond, only pushes himself deeper into your embrace. You can feel the material of your shirt sticking to your skin at your collarbone from his snot and tears, and you're definitely going to have bruises on your back from his fingers digging into you for support. None of that matters though in the moment, what matters is that he's getting the initial shock out of his system.

You're not too sure how long you both lay there, but with time, you can tell Bakugo's calming down by his sobs mellowing out. His body begins to loosen up, the tension melting from his tightened grip around you. And then you hear it - a low snore.

He'd fallen asleep.

You tilt your head back to get a look at his face. His features have relaxed around his puffy eyes and pink nose. Without thinking, you run a hand through his bangs, exposing his forehead and press a tender kiss to it. He doesn't stir and continues to take deep, sleepy breaths.

───

Bakugo wakes an hour later, dazed and exhausted. When he starts to shift in your arms, you open your eyes. You give him a hearty smile as he releases his hold, rolling onto his back next to you.

"Mornin' sunshine. How're you feeling?"

He snorts as his eyes focus on the ceiling. "Like shit."

He pauses before looking back at you. "But less than before. Thanks. I'm just fuckin' tired."

"You scared me, I've never seen you that upset before," you admit. "You don't have to talk about it now, or ever, just know that I'm here for whatever you need."

"I don't even know what to say about it. Shit sucked, but it's what we signed up for." He's very monotone, but at least he's talking.

You roll over to face him. "I'm sorry you had to see it."

Bakugo sighs. "'S what it is. I'll get over it. Endeavor told me the first one is the hardest, better to get it outta the way before becomin' a pro."

Damn, that made your heart ache.

"Just 'cause we wanna help people doesn't mean we can't also ask the same for ourselves. Heroes need a hero, too."

He lolls his head to the side and stares at you, a gleam in his tired eyes. "...yeah."

The room is silent as the two of you take a break from the rough conversation. If he doesn't want to continue talking, you don't push it. Instead, you offer a distraction.

"I'd love to take you hiking today, if you're up for it," you say with enthusiasm. "I know how much you love that one trail nearby with the overlook of the city."

Bakugo felt his heart flutter at the proposal, confusing the hell out of him, but offered a sense of comfort that he needed. He loved that you remembered something so niche about his interests.

"Maybe tomorrow."

"Sure! You tell me how early you wanna go and I'll get my ass out of bed. Just for you," you tease, jokingly smacking his arm. "We can get lunch on the way back from the hike, too. Wherever you wanna go!"

Between the swirl of emotions from earlier and how sweet you're being to him now, he's overwhelmed with a feeling he can't quite place.

"Y/N, can I ask you something?" he asks abruptly.

Well, that came out of nowhere.

"Always, Kat. What is it?"

He stalls his follow up, seeming to think a little longer on how he wans to phrase his question.

"Why...are you here with me?"

His question baffles you. "Because you're my best friend?"

Best friend, he repeats in his head.

You notice the pondering look in his eyes as he turns to face you, shifting to lay on his side.

"It's because I care deeply about you, Katsuki. Nothing'll ever change that."

"...promise?" His voice is shaky, a nervousness to his tone.

You reach out and touch his cheek, stroking it lovingly with your thumb.

"Is that even a question? Yes, I promise. You're stuck with my ass forever, like it or not. I’ll be cheering for you every step of the way."

He laughs - genuinely.

And then he smiles. Your heart soars into the heavens.

"There's my favorite firecracker!" you boast, squishing his cheek in your hand.

Bakugo huffs at the sudden affection, a dusting of pink on his cheeks and nose.

"Th' fuck?!" he curses, playfully poking your forehead. "I'm not a firecracker!"

“Coulda fooled me, Mr. Lord Explosion Murder God Dynamight.”

The two of you play fight, cackling like children as the tension melts from the room.

Even if it’s just for a little while, Bakugo forgot about the agonizing dread from hours ago.

───

Later on in the dorm lobby, you’re sitting on the couch with Bakugo, feet in his lap watching TV as he’s reading a book. Midoriya comes prancing into the room, fresh faced from his nap. His eyes brighten when he sees Bakugo on the couch.

“Hey guys! Kacchan, how are you feeling?” he asks cheerfully, taking a seat on the couch next to him.

Unexpectedly, Bakugo wraps an arm over Midoriya’s shoulder, tugging him into his side.

“Fine, nerd. Thanks.” He lets go, puts a hand on his head and roughly fluffs his curls - just like when they were kids. Midoriya is so taken aback that he doesn’t say anything, he just smiles and relaxes next to him.

“What are we watching?”

You lean sideways to catch a glimpse of the boys together on the couch, co-existing without any negativity. Even after all the shit life throws at them, they still find ways to shove it all away to enjoy each other’s company. Sometimes, they just need a little help getting back to that mentality.

A silent huff escapes you as you lay back into the couch.

These boys are going to be the death of me.

i love these goobers and wanna buy them a lifetime’s worth of ice cream and take them to disney world to make them happy :’)

#bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugo angst #bakugo x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #dynamight #bnha #mha #☆.rei writes

452 notes · View notes

moominsuki · 1 year

Text

✎ᝰ. REMEMBER THOSE TIMES WHEN YOU WERE LAUGHING, AND NAKED ON MY COUCH ; — silly sex tropes with the boku no hero academia boys.

FEATURING: bakugou katsuki, midoriya izuku, todoroki shoto + kirishima eijirou.

࿄ ! warnings — f!reader, all characters aged up 20+, suggestive, sex talk but silly all around, crack lowkey. / note. this was fun to write. pls take this as a bit of filler while i finish up my super mega bkg fic. loves ya!

✎𓂃BAKUGOU KATSUKI。°˖⌕

it was a rare occasion for bakugou to actually want to show up to a hero gala - when you usually caught wind of any formal event, your blond haired man would vehemently oppose going, opting to stay at home and order some food instead. you couldn’t place what spurned bakugou’s sudden interest in attending the annual convention but as you get into your car, all dressed up and ready to go, you understand why.

“come on, they’re not gonna care if we’re a few minutes late,” pleads bakugou when you arrive at your seats, pressing displaced kisses on your done up face and swat him away slightly.

you whine at him to behave, grabbing at the hand groping at your thighs, your breasts, anywhere he can put his big hands on and you always resort to placing his hands back into the culprit’s lap.

unfortunately for you, bakugou knows how easily turned to mush you are by sweet nothings and fondling because it only takes you 8 minutes for you to cave in, inconspicuously meeting your husband at the rendezvous point. it then takes another 5 for bakugou to have your chest pressed against the mirror, lifting up your gown to touch at your most intimate parts.

“tell me how badly you want it,” he grunts, pulling down his own slacks while you grind your ass and whimper at him.

“be a good girl and take it,” bakugou breathes out gruffly, desire running through his voice and he’s just about to dip inside you-

“i’ve been holding my damn piss in all day - what the fuck? bakugou?!” yells out kaminari and bakugou practically launches himself at the cubicle door to throw the yellow blond out while you’re scrambling to cover up your indecency.

with kaminari sporting a fresh bruise on his jaw as a shameful reminder, you and bakugou vow to never get down and dirty in public spaces. bakugou still adamantly swears to this day that the door was locked.

✎𓂃MIDORIYA IZUKU。°˖⌕

you roll your eyes when you hear another pitiful groan come out of izuku, who’s sprawled out on the couch with a bandaged leg propped up on multiple pillows. he has been out of action with a broken leg for a few weeks now due to an unprecedented villain attack at the agency. it’s rendered him useless, and quite frankly bored and horny out of his mind.

that being said, you outright refuse to have sex with izuku now that he has a broken leg but it hasn’t stopped him from pleading with his big green eyes, pink lips pouting as he guilt trips you from across the house.

“please, y/n, you can just sit on it. i won’t even move a bit. you look so pretty, baby,” izuku whines as you rub lotion into his hands and arms. and what kind of girlfriend would you be to deny him in his time of recovery.

it’s rushed the way that you’re both still half clothed; already grinding on his cock and you’re doing everything in your power to make sure you don’t rest even a little bit of weight on his leg. izuku has never been good at preventing the buck of hips when you clench down on him and today is no different.

he starts subconsciously rutting into you - as he does when his orgasm starts to creep up on him - and one tight clench of your walls forces his lower body to jolt and practically throw you on to his right leg… i.e. the leg that is currently out of action.

a howl of pain emits from your boyfriend and you frantically run to your phone to call the physiotherapist, butt jiggling on the way and izuku doesn’t know what hurts more: his leg or the blue balled dick.

the next time you have sex isn’t until the cast finally comes off and no matter how many puppy dog eyes the man lays on you, you stay resolute on the decision. you even so kindly send him some nudes so he finds solace in his left hand instead of you.

izuku vows to never get another injury again; though his incentives might be slightly skewed.

✎𓂃TODOROKI SHOTO。°˖⌕

it is never a smart idea to have sex in your partner’s childhood home. it’s one thing to fuck in their bedroom; but it’s a whole other bridge to cross when it’s in their parents’ bedroom.

that being said, todoroki hates needlessly having to go to his childhood home. however, fuyumi is out of town for work; being that none of his siblings except for him could house sit and that shoto has a soft spot for his older sister, he decided to just suck it up.

luckily for him, you offer to keep him company for the next few days at his childhood home and shoto would never pass up an offer for the chance to be alone with you - considering both your inflexible work schedules and the fact that you both have roommates, shoto knew this would be a once in an annual experience.

so it was inevitable, really, that shoto would come home from a long day of patrolling and to see you donned in sexy, red lingerie, strolling up to him with your manicured hands placed delicately on his chest. and, being the succubus that you are, you both decided to do the deed in the nicest bedroom in todoroki estate: his father’s bedroom.

with every flex of his hips, shoto has you and the bed nearly folded into one being - you're moaning, begging for him to go faster as you grapple pathetically onto his shoulders while he grunts, grabbing the headboard to speed up his movements.

“that's it, pretty girl, just like that,” shoto groans, lifting your thigh to place it on his shoulder and this new position means that you feel it so much more; but it also means that the legs of the bed start scraping on the hardwood floor... and has the headboard always been so creaky?

you get your answer when a snap! releases above your head and you're about to look up when the middle of the bed caves in with a pitiful oomphh. at this point, the duochrome haired man is still snug inside you and he quickly wraps a hand behind your head to cushion the fall. the silence is ridiculously loud until you both look at each other and burst out laughing.

“my dad is going to kill me,” shoto sighs into your neck and you comfort him with a few soft touches to the nape of his head.

naturally, the pair of you continue your romp in other places of the todoroki home and by the time fuyumi comes back, she's met with a raging enji todoroki holding a sketchy, sprawled out note of:

“sorry >:] - shoto.”

✎𓂃KIRISHIMA EIJIROU。°˖⌕

kirishima regards himself as someone with high restraint and while that does dwindle when he's around you, he's still able to control himself, despite the lust-filled glances and borderline sexual touches you throw at him.

today is not one of those times.

he’s already very pent up, extremely touch starved from this three week long mission away from you. yeah, they bagged the villain, as to he expected. but at what cost? he’s found company in two pillows and pictures of you in the meantime but they do little to quell his thirst for you.

it’s around 5am when you pick him up from the airport and even though you’re both tired as hell - kirishima being jet lagged and you not being used to waking up at these ungodly hours, - the way you touch him is not that of an exhausted woman. and given the days, weeks he’s had, who was he to deny you?

throwing his suitcases haphazardly in the trunk of his your car, nary a word is said as he throws you on to his lap in the backseat, touching and fondling every bit of you to relieve himself. the red head is rockhard in mere minutes (no pun intended) and the two of you don’t even bother to partake in foreplay, both pent up from the time apart.

kirishima grunts into your neck, the back of your thighs sat in his wide palms as he hammers into you, “missed this pussy so damn m-much, fuck.” it’s desperate and the windows start fogging as an effect of the rushed ministrations but you can’t find it in yourselves to care much.

kirishima lets go of one of your thighs to hoist it around his hips, opting to place a palm on the window and unknowingly leaving a incriminating handprint.

it was just his luck that the paparazzi caught wind of the heroes that would be leaving this airport, camping outside of the building all morning. it was just their luck that they recognised red riot’s car sat idol in the parking lot. with their cameras set to burst multiple frames a second, they make a beeline to the car… and upon further inspection, they notice the car shaking slightly, as if there were somebody inside.

it’s a shame that all the paps didn’t exactly get the memo of what was going on, with a bright faced obvious newbie giddily taking a photo, flash and sound click on at full blast.

the shaking stops and muffled shuffling ensues. the group of shutterbugs are mortified to see a ragged kirishima exit the car, brows furrowed and lips pursed.

the paps didn’t really lose much out of this equation, though: who even needs those photos when a hefty check was on offer instead?

#bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #bnha headcannons #midoriya x reader #todoroki x reader #bnha smut #bakugou smut #todoroki smut #midoriya smut #kirishima smut #bnha x reader #— uma thirsts <\\3 #✎𓂃stamped: (my hero academia)。°˖⌕

3K notes · View notes

we-are-maladaptive · 1 year

Text

Breeding ‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧ Stock

Shouto Todoroki x Cowgirl!Reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Feel free to send me an ask and I’ll write it for you! Remeber to check the rules first.

CONTENTS: smut, breeding (duh), pussy pounding (teehee), hybrids, talks of past abuse, lactation kink, shouto is like in his late 20, early 30s, loss of virginity, master/pet dynamics, oral (f reciev.) Word Count: 2.7k (Proofread! :D)

It seems like people like you are not so lucky as humans. Humans get to do whatever they want, whenever they want, and it’s not fair. Being strapped in a cage all day long.. waiting for someone to take you home n’ milk you dry, maybe breed you.

Breed... you hated that word. You just wanted a life where you could be free, and not have to worry about being someone’s pet. Unfortunately for you, you were one of the best stocks in the farm. The freshest of milk, and the prettiest of faces. This meant that you were being dragged for display almost every time a rich, old buyer came around, flaunting your pretty tits and perky nipples through the thin fabric of your white dress. Praying that the price tag clipped to your ear will be enough to drive them away... sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes the buyers will get a little too close, so when they get a bite on the finger or arm and they scurry away, a few lashes at your behind is better than staying with those creeps.

One day, though, another rich man comes inside... he’s a handsome man, and looks way more decent then the crooks that usually come in the store. You hear one of the clerks scurry in his direction-

..”Oh my! Hello good sir! What are you in for today?”

“I’m here to purchase a cow.”

“Oh! I see. Is there any type you are interested in?”

“...Your best cow.”

A pair of heavy footsteps were walking to your cage, but you didn’t pay any mind to it, too engrossed in your own thoughts. You were always so shaky during a time like this, what if the price, or a bite on the arm, isn’t enough to drive them away? You can’t stay here forever...

“I’ll take her.”

Your head perked up immediately.

“O-oh! Are you sure you want to buy her? You haven’t even touched her ye-”

“I said I’ll take her. Do I need to repeat myself again?”

“Of course not sure! The price is 300,000 yen. She’s of high value.”

You looked the man in the eyes, his gaze softened when he met your eyes, maybe because they were currently filled with fear.

His eyes met the clerk again.

“...Seems fair. Lead me to the paperwork. If there's anything else I need to know, do tell me.”

...

You were terrified.

This man was large, and could easily overpower you. You stood no chance against him, so you stayed quiet and timid in the back of his car.

“Where...where going?” Dumb thing. Could barely manage to understand a few words.

“..We are heading home. You won’t be familiar, but don’t worry. I’ll take good care of you.”

Home? You have never had a home before, always stuck in the cage. He said it so gently too, maybe it’s worthless to be so panicky.. he seems sincere.

“Moo..”

...

When he pulled into the driveway, you expected to be dragged into the house, but he held you so softly. So gentle then you felt almost compelled to follow him, and that's what you did.

“Hungry..”

“You’re hungry, hm? What do you usually eat?”

“..Moo?”

He sighed. He wasn’t going to get very far when it came to communication. It seemed as though you could only understand basic words. The man fed you plenty of fresh strawberries, and kiwi. Much to your delight, since all you ate back at the farm was slop filled with hormone inducing protein.

“Who?” Is what you asked him. If you were going to stay here, you at least needed a name. “Shouto, is my name.”

“Sho...shoto..?”

“Yes, you got it.”

Shouto. That was his name. It’s not very hard to pronounce either.

It started to get late, and you had a hobby of following him wherever he went. He could tell by the clank of the cowbell he placed around your neck.

“Sleep?” He assumed you were tired after the trip. You followed him around to this somewhat pile of pillows and a blanket. It was soft, but still sturdy, since it was placed on the floor.

...

The next morning was filled with ache. You felt so heavy. Practically dragging across the floor into his room where he slept. You stared up at him and whined until he started to stir.

“Mmm..what is it?”

“Hurts.” It did hurt, the ache in your hard breasts was hard to ignore at this point. Milk threatening to spill all over and make a mess on the floor if you moved the wrong way.

“Right. I know, come here...”

He pulled down the top of your dress, and your breasts spilled over. He gently grabbed one, and sucked.

It was such a strange feeling.. it was reliving, but your nipples were so sensitive, you couldn't help but whine whenever he sucked so hard. The rich, warm milk flowed into his mouth, and when he began to coax you into his bed, you flinched a little.

“No... no breed.”

“No?” He was rather confused. One the papers and documentaries he read prior, it seemed that almost all cows loved to be bred and filled to the brim. It seemed you were the exception though. It was understandable though, and he wasn’t going to make you do anything you weren’t uncomfortable with, yet.

“Alright. Are you feeling better?”

You nodded. You were still sleepy though, since it was still early in the morning. You snuggled up against him, much to his surprise. Seems like you like his mattress more than the floor.

“Nuh-uh. You need a bath before you can get in my bed, missy.”

“Huff.”

...

It was around 9AM now. This bath was a lot more soothing then you thought it would be. While you were marveling at the bubbles in the bath, Shouto sat at the edge, but he was internally struggling a bit...

Your body looked amazing.

The way droplets of water ran from your hair into the crevice of your breasts. When you lifted yourself up a bit to get out of the water, he could see the fat of your ass, and even a little peek at your cunt too <3.

Shouto wasn't aware of what you were doing right now, probably wandering around the house, but he wasn't worried about that recently. Right now, he wanted to figure out how to make you more.. comfortable. You had pushed away his advance to fuck you earlier, and he was currently fighting the urge to find you bend you over, but that's not very comforting. He understood that you had just gotten here, and it was a very sudden change.

After a while, he decided that the best course of action was patience, and to let you feel a little more at home via gifts or just exploration. He had gotten you a pretty decorated bell that went around your neck, and would let you snuggle with him on his bed as long as you showered or didn't run around in the grass looking for butterflies in his garden. His bed was very soft, and you cried and whined at him whenever it was time to get up.

After a week of being there, you felt a lot more at home. You were able to get down the basic layout of the house now, so you no longer got lost. It was a very large house, and so you would wail for Shouto, so he could come find wherever you were.

It was late into the evening now. You once again lay in Shouto's large garden tub, Shouto was also in the tub behind you, gently scrubbing away the mud on your shoulders, you were extra dirty after planting face-first into the ground. You tripped over yourself after trying to snatch a pretty monarch butterfly. Shouto helped you with wiping the dirt off your face when he found you, but still got himself dirty in the process thanks to you swinging your muddy tail around.

...Once you were finally clean in the tub, that's when Shouto decided to advance. He pressed you back onto his chest, and placed his hand on the lower part of your stomach. You tilted your head to look at him, curious to see what he was doing. You shuddered slightly when he pressed his lips on your neck, right above your collarbone. You tensed when he started to suckle on your neck, so he used his other hand to caress your thigh, and lifted it upward to hand over the edge of the tub, he did the same with the other leg. Your legs were now draped over the tub, giving him access to your more intimate area. He stopped sucking on your neck and again placed his hand on your lower stomach, sliding down very slowly. He whispered in your ear when you started to whimper; "Shhh, I promise I'll take good care of you. Just relax for me.'' You started to melt in his hands, he's taken good care of you ever since you got here, so you should be able to trust him. You were just scared. Scared because of the things you witnessed back at that old barn. Looking at Shouto's different colored eyes makes everything numb, so you nodded at him. He softly smiled at you, and slid his hand on top of your cunt. You stiffened slightly, so he didn’t toy with you just yet, he wanted you to get comfortable first. When Shouto felt you slightly relax into his arms, he smiled at your soft whimper, because now he had placed a calloused finger onto your swollen clit, rubbing in slow circles.

“How’s that feeling, baby?” He was taunting you now, his fingers slowly picking up the pace, stilling you with his other hand when you started grinding your hips into his fingers. “Ah….ah..” You were really trying, you were. Nothing was coming out of your mouth coherent enough for him to understand, but it was enough to make him chuckle at your attempts, a simple puff of air from his nose.

The fingers on your clit were relentless now, the circles had gotten faster, and it was hard not to buck away from his touches. Something in your core was aching to be let out, but you had no idea what it was. Your whimpers turned to soft moans, and soft moans turned into a mixture of inaudible pleas, hiccuped sobs, and loud whines. You didn’t know what you were begging for, but Shouto did. You were on the edge, you slammed your eyes shut in preparation for what was about to happen, but it never came. A disappointed noise came from your lips, and Shouto let out a light laugh at your pouty face. “Don’t worry my dear, I’ll take care of you soon enough.” He pressed a kiss to your ear and whispered something that made you shudder;

“I want you to cum on my cock, love.” With that, he lifted you from the tub, earning him a squeak from you. Using the heat of his body to dry you both at an unfathomable speed, and when he deemed you “dry” enough, he hoisted you over his shoulder and dropped you on the edge of the bed in a playful manner. He gave you no room to complain or whine at him, and instead dragged your rear towards his face as he kneeled down on the floor. Your mouth was opened to protest, but before you could manage to get a word in, your thoughts changed immediately as his mouth started to suckle on your clit. Instead, you let out a loud moan at his ministrations.

He hummed in content at your cries, and the vibrations furthered your pleasure. After a minute, he slid his index finger into your walls, curling upwards in hopes to find that soft spot, and he did. You threw your head backwards, and let out a cry of pleasure. When he deemed you wet enough, he placed another finger in. Curling up into that soft spot in your cunt, and he picked up a nice rhythm too. He curled his fingers particularly hard, which made you slam your hand over your mouth, much to his displeasure. He stood up from his position and pulled you upwards into the pillows of the bed, your legs now bent over his shoulders. He tilted your chin upwards when you tried to look down to see what was about to go inside you, however he wouldn’t let you. If you did see it, you’d probably freak out by how large it was, so it was best to avoid that.

“You’re still so shaky, sweetie. I promise I’ll be very gentle with you, yeah? I don’t want to break you after all.” He smiled down at you when you nodded at him, your teeth biting at your plush lips and eyes slamming shut as you felt the rather large tip of his length prodding at your entrance. “Shh.. hey, you're okay. Look at me. I want to see the look in your eyes as I’m deep inside you, love.” As your eyes slowly opened you decided to grip at the sheets instead, if you bit your lip too hard it would bleed. He buried his face into your neck, as he couldn’t contain his groans and grunts either, opting to release them into your neck, his breath on your collarbone sending shivers down your spine, you could feel him gripping the sheets, and you could feel his cock prodding deeper into your sopping pussy. It hurt, it really did, but it was hard to focus on the pain when he held you so softly.

You had never felt any type of affection in your life, back at that barn. This pain was nothing compared to the lashes you used to receive back there whenever you made any type of mistake. His love was foreign to you, his touches, his affection. It was not what you expected when you first came here. You had thought he was like the others, he’d take, take and take some more until there was nothing left of you. To your surprise however he was giving you something. Giving you food, love, affection, something you’d never thought you would receive. This pain was nothing, nothing at all.

You weren’t really given any room to think when the pain did subside.

Pleasure. Pleasure in its rawest, most carnal form. It was something you never felt up until now. It was like electricity, flowing up and down every vein in your body, it was the only thing you could focus on, if you tried to focus on anything else you might break into pieces. Shouto was saying something, but it was drowned out by your cries. Everything seemed like a blur, the noises of your skin slapping together, your moaning, his grunts, all of it was hazy, other than the overwhelming sensation in between your legs.

Panic crawled its way up your spine when that sensation got a little too intense to handle, that feeling from earlier, something wanting to snap inside. Your breathing got sporadic and irregular, and Shouto noticed and hushed you.

“Hey.. it’s okay. Let go for me, yeah? I got you, you’re safe.”

You tried to plead with him, with the little English you were taught, but he wasn’t having it. He knew what was best for you, afterall.

You tried too hard to hold it in, but when he placed his fingers on your clit again, you knew you couldn’t contain it any longer.

You opened your mouth in a silent scream, head thrown back, your hair a mess, and nails raking at his back. .. and then everything went quiet for a while.

Your eyes felt heavy when you woke up. You weren’t out for long, it was still early into the night, the moon still shone in the same place as when you and Shouto were- oh.“Hi, sleepyhead.” You jumped slightly as the voice beside you, groggy and yet still full of love. Shouto’s hair is a mess, just like yours. Instead of speaking, you instead decided to nuzzle your face into his neck, and he replied with a hum. He kissed your forehead and stroked your back, it couldn’t be any better than this. All those years of isolation and abandonment, you have finally found something good, someone good in your life. You couldn’t bear to see him leave you.

Shouto was about half asleep when his ears perked up to the sound of someone sniveling, it was you. You were crying, in his arms. He pulled your face out, as it was still buried in his neck, and examined your watery eyes and red puffy cheeks with a frown on his face.

“Please… don’t leave me.”

He smiled softly at you, kissing your tears away. “I won’t ever leave you, I promise.”

With that, you both fell asleep. Even though you were a cow, you were still a girl. You had at least half the mind to think of girly things, which included dreaming of what you and Shouto’s kids would look like, and what you would name them.

2K notes · View notes

shoutaaizawas · 4 months

Text

↳ todoroki shoto x reader → ❝ice king❞

summary: the world sees shoto as a cold hero but you know that's the furthest thing from the truth. when you get hurt the world sees word count: 4k+ tags/warnings: friends to lovers, confessions, hurt/comfort, fluff, and light angst (with violence, blood mentions, injury mentions) a/n: alright that was way more than what i expected to write but i can't complain because it was fun to write.

masterlist

Shoto Todoroki is calm, cool, and collected almost always. Nothing seems to shake him even when put under extreme pressure. A good amount of public opinion believes he’s as icy as his quirk.

You aren’t one of those people. Shoto has been your friend since high school. You were quick to have a soft spot for him. His family or quirk didn’t intimidate you it was like you saw who he was from the start. He was warm and soft. He thought about others and cared for them even if he didn’t always show it through his words.

Now that you were both adults working as pro heroes you knew so even more now. Shoto had grown a lot, around his friends he would talk more and joke around. It was nice seeing him open up and enjoy life after all he had gone through with his family in his childhood.

Shoto was your best friend and even if people thought he was unshakable, you knew better. You could see it on rescue missions that were too close to losing the people in danger. How his eyebrows furrowed, the look in his heterochromatic eyes.

Shoto Todoroki while being one of the best heroes out there was just a man and he too felt the weight of the world at times.

Losing people on the job was never easy, even when it wasn’t your fault. You recall the night like it was yesterday. A fire broke out in a high-rise building. It was a bad night, heroes spread across the city busy with different disasters. It was you and Todoroki and an entire building. Considering the situation it was a miracle that more people didn’t die.

After escorting out groups and groups of people you went to help Shoto with the last few people. A young mother and her children. A heavy beam collapsed, separating her from her children. The smoke was thick and it all happened so quickly. You took the children and Shoto rushed to save her, but there was no helping it. The unstable floor fell out from below her and even as Shoto tried to do anything to keep her from falling it was useless. The building was deteriorating so quickly, the fire burning hot.

If he hadn’t been there you wouldn’t have made it out with the kids without his ice quirk.

You had kept the kids from seeing what happened but they knew when Shoto returned without her that their mother was gone. The scene outside, the kids crying as their father who had been at work returned. Having to tell him what happened. You were going to explain it when Shoto stepped in front of you telling the man what had happened to his wife.

It was devastating. Even though you had saved a building full of people it didn’t feel like enough as you watched the children cry in their father’s arms, watching him tear up trying to stay strong for his kids.

After being treated for smoke inhalation you found yourself at Shoto’s apartment. A place you were no stranger to. You were work partners and best friends. Of course, you had been here many times. For dinner, to help him when he was sick, you even had your own key for emergencies. Knocking on the door you got no reply. You knew for a fact he was home. Using your key you entered figuring this counted as an emergency.

Shoto sat on the couch with only the light of a small lamp. He had a glass of whiskey in hand. He looked drained. His head didn’t even turn as you entered.

“Shoto.” You said softly as you sat down next to him. His knuckles were white around the glass, his other hand clenched in a fist. You took his hand into yours, brushing your thumb over his cold skin. “You did everything you could, it wasn’t your fault.”

“Does it change the fact those kids have no mother now?” He said his voice was low. His voice was raw, hurting. You could hear the pain in it.

“No.” You said. “No, it doesn’t. At the end of the day doing our best with no mistakes sometimes still means that we lose people. We can’t save everyone and that’s the worst thing about being a hero. It’s not fair but it’s not your fault.”

His hand started to relax from a fist, he was still tense but it was a good start. “12, 323 people lived in that building, and 8,578 people were in the building when the fire started. All those people and we only lost one.” You said looking at him but his gaze was still on the wall. “If we were less prepared, if we didn’t work together well any other two heroes would have lost more than one person. I can guarantee it. The agency is in disbelief we saved so many being short-handed.”

“Does it stop the image of those children crying in their father's arms while he tries to hold it together?” You asked. “No, it doesn’t it never will. But we have to focus on the good and not only the bad. We’re only hurting ourselves if we don’t. How many families are together tonight because we saved them? How many couples reunited, grandparents that got out safely so they can see their family again? Lives saved, lives that get to spend another day doing whatever they want to because we saved them. There’s so much good.”

You pulled out your phone and open a social media app. “Look,” You said holding it up. A hashtag was trending thanking you both for saving people in that building. “Thank you for saving my sister, her family lives in that building. Thank you for saving my niece and her husband. Thank you for saving me and my parents.” You read some of them out.

“It doesn’t bring her back. It doesn’t change the grief that family carries now and always will but it gives us the whole picture.” You said.

Shoto’s gaze moved to you and you could see as a tear slipped from his eyes. Without a word you embraced him, holding him as he cried quietly against your shoulder. “Thank you,” He mumbled against you. You hummed in reply as you rubbed his back.

No, Shoto was not a uncaring man. He felt grief all too well.

Shoto was no stranger to anxiety either.

Doing publicity was never enjoyed by either of you but it was part of the job.

The good thing about Shoto being the head of his own hero agency meant that you could control the schedule. Rather than doing media throughout the year, you both plotted a way to get it over with.

Twice a year you did what you coined the ‘Biannual Media Marathon’. Was it horrible? Yes. Did you make it a silly event, of course? Have you made mugs and shirts to commemorate? Yeah.

The media marathon consisted of a full day, usually from six am to eight or nine pm of filming media, photo shoots, and interviews.

Was it an improvement? Probably not but it meant you didn’t have to do it any other day of the year and that was the way you and Shoto preferred it.

The morning would start with hair and makeup then you went to the local news stations to do interviews and even did satellite interviews. After you filmed videos for ads that would run through the year or other PSAs. Then the photo shoots. The hair, makeup, and outfit changes were like torture.

By the end of the day, you felt dead. Not only were you exhausted but your skin felt raw and your head hurt from people pulling at your hair.

The finale was late-night talk show interviews. Shoto had a much better poker face when it came to how over it he was. As the two of you sat in the green room you looked over at Shoto, who looked handsome in a trendy suit with his hair pushed back loosely. But the way his shoulders were slumped and a look in his eyes told you he was at the end of his rope.

Funny how two heroes who constantly trained to keep their stamina up for fights and rescues could be so defeated by a day of socializing and posing.

“Sho,” You said softly. “You good?”

His eyes snapped to you. “I’m exhausted.”

You gave him a soft look before moving to sit next to him. “Rest your eyes, I’ll wake you up when they’re ready for us.” You said.

He started at you for a moment before resting his head against your shoulder. After a moment you heard light snoring from him. You smiled.

Just like that with his eyes closed as he snored against you he looked at peace. The weight of his exhaustion was gone just like that.

Even Shoto Todoroki got tired. You were no stranger to it.

The world was a stranger to the feelings Shoto went through until today.

A battle against a dangerous villain was not an unusual thing for you two to face together. Generally, it was something you dealt with quickly. After working together for so long it was like second nature when you fought together.

All eyes were on the scene, news helicopters flying overhead as onlookers filmed on their phones.

It was clear from the start this wasn’t going to be an easy battle to win. Exchanging blows with the villain, fire, and ice rushing past you.

Exhaustion was starting to wear you down, the villain was trying to wear you both down so you got sloppy, so he’d have an opening. It worked.

Your vision goes black for a moment as you are launched back. When it returns you're on the ground, everything hurts, and the breath is knocked out of you.

A wall of ice covers you, Shoto is in front of you. There’s this look in his eyes you’ve never seen before. It’s distant and present at the same time. His eyes lock onto your stomach, you follow his gaze as his hand gently touches the blood that’s gathering there.

The blood drains from your face as you realize the wound is deep. You feel numb and you know that’s not a good sign.

“Shoto, you have to cauterize it.” You know it’s the last thing he would ever want to do, hurt you with his fire but if he doesn’t-

There are only moments before the villain turns on civilians. Only moments before you lose too much blood and your chances of surviving this get worse. In a second you both realize this is the only option. You take his left hand and place it on the wound.

It’s going to hurt, you know it will but if he doesn’t you could die. You will die.

With a look you nod at him, encouraging him. You know every fiber of him is against this but you also have known him long enough to know he’s come to the same conclusion as you have. It has to happen.

His right-hand brushes against your cheek, brushing away tears you didn’t know were there before stopping at your hand. Holding your hand with his right, he nods as he covers your wound with his left.

The scream you let out is deafening. You had wanted to hold it in, the last thing you wanted was to make Shoto feel worse but in this kind of pain, you had no control. It was quick, a flash of heat but the pain lingered.

“You’re okay,” Shoto’s voice cuts through the ringing in your head. His hands trying to comfort you in any way possible. “You’re okay.”

Shoto watches as you clutch at the burn, the blood still covering you, pooling around you. Your costume is torn and there’s a nasty bruise already starting on your face. He can tell you’re out of it, the pain overwhelming. He’s never seen you this hurt, he’s never seen you so out of it, so vulnerable.

Something in Shoto wells up, his face feels hot, and his head is swimming. There’s a rage in him he has never felt, he’s been angry before but this is different. He finally understands what people mean when they say they’re ‘seeing red’.

You watch as Shoto turns, a flash of red, and the ice wall he put up to protect you both is evaporated. His steps are slow as he approaches the villain. Any attacks launched at him are easily deflected by the flames roaring around him. A trail of ice followed him.

The only way you can describe the scene in front of you is feral. Shoto takes the villain down like it’s nothing. But he doesn’t stop there. He’s on top of the villain wailing on him. You can’t see from where you are but you're sure the villain is bloody.

Deku arrives on the scene and is quick to his friend’s side, pulling him off the villain and trying to get Shoto to return from wherever he is right now.

Kirishima is at your side, his always reassuring smile on his face as he picks you up. “Let’s get you to a doctor.”

Cauterizing the wound was the right choice, the doctor informs you as you lay in a hospital bed cleaned and bandaged.

“If he hadn’t you would have lost a lot of blood by the time you go help.” The doctor explained. “The scar will be worse but much better than chancing death. Your friend saved your life.”

Other than a lot of painful bruises and scratches your wounds are minimal. No head injuries either which is always great. Just bed rest for at least a week to let things heal up.

Shoto enters your room as soon as the doctor is done with you. Whatever state he was in earlier is still lingering around him.

His eyes on you are intent, looking you over as if to make sure you were really okay.

“Sho,” You said softly mustering up your best smile despite the exhaustion you felt and the pain medicine making you feel a bit lightheaded. “My hero,” You tease playfully.

Normally when you try and lighten the mood he follows but this time it doesn’t work. He lets out a heavy breath. You aren’t exactly sure what is bothering him. Of course, he just finished a rough battle and had to cauterize your wound but you weren’t sure of the specific problem.

“The doctors said you saved my life,” You said. “If you hadn’t I would have bled out too much by the time I got here.”

Shoto sits down in the chair beside your bed. He still looks so tense. So upset. His silence usually doesn’t bother you but right now you feel like something is wrong but you don’t know how to help it.

“I’m sorry-” You said, your voice a bit smaller now. “I know that must have been awful for you- to have to use your fire like that. I never would have asked but-”

“I’m not upset about cauterizing your wound.” He interrupts. “I know it was the only way to save you, I’m sorry it had to be done but the last thing you should be is worried about my feelings when you’re dying.”

“Oh,” You said. Now you were more unsure what he was upset about. “You still seem really upset, what’s wrong?”

“Seeing you hurt like that…” It sounds like he’s going to save more but he stops.

“Being hurt is part of the job,” You said, your tone light. Despite facing your own death not long ago you aren’t as bothered about it for some reason. Perhaps it’s easier to joke than face your own fears. “Besides, if I was gone you’d get a new work partner. I’m sure you’re tired of me at this point.” You tease.

Evidently, that was the wrong thing to say. His eyes snap to you and you see anger fill them. “That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” You probably shouldn’t push but you aren’t in the best place to be making choices right now.

Shoto stands up, his chair sliding back loudly. You blink as he paces the hospital room.

“You don’t get it!” He shouted, his anger wasn’t directed towards you but rather out of his frustration. “I lost it out there. I’ve never felt like that. Like I couldn’t control my own body. I’ve never beaten a villain until I couldn’t recognize them.” His chest heaved, emotions running through him. “Closing that wound- that was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. Hurting you like that-” His eyes were glassy, his voice caught in his throat. “But I knew it was the only way to save you.”

“I’m not upset because my coworker got hurt! Or even my best friend! I’m upset because I almost lost the love of my life and I never even told you!” A silence falls over the room like he’s surprised by his own words.

“What?” You stare at your best friend in shock.

“I love you.” This time his words are sure, his breathing evens. “I love you, I’ve loved you since we were in high school. You light up every day even when they’re really bad ones. You make even the most mundane or annoying things fun. You’re strong and your kind and you’re my everything.”

Shoto loves you?

Of course, you were close, of course, you worked together, and spent your free time together. And well you were close with his family and always attended events together. There wasn’t a part of your life that Shoto wasn’t in. How often did you go over to his place and make him dinner? How often did he bring you your favorite snacks and drinks during patrol? Was there ever really a moment that you weren’t with him or thinking about him?

Oh.

You loved Shoto.

Dating was always something you avoided. Going on awkward first dates. Trying to get to know someone. Figuring out if they were worth dating. It just was unappealing to you. You had always thought you didn’t have time for a romantic partner because of work but the truth was you thought that you already spent most of your time with Shoto. When would you have time with someone else?

Now you realize it was because Shoto already took the space in your life for a romantic partner. You never yearned for someone because you already had your person. You already had the person you wanted to share everything with.

You just hadn’t realized that was the case.

“I understand you don’t feel the same way, and I’m sorry if this makes things awkward.” He said. “I just can’t move forward without telling you. Not after I almost lost you.”

“Sho,” You said softly. “Come here.”

Shoto looks confused but he moves closer, you take his hand in yours as he sits on the bed facing you.

“I have to admit-” You said with a small smile. “I’m an idiot.”

“What do you mean?” He asked looking confused.

“I always thought that I didn’t need a boyfriend, I always wondered why so many people felt the need to find someone to occupy that space in their life.” You said. “But now I realize that it’s because I’ve had you. You’re with me at work, with me in my free time. We eat meals together, we go shopping together. I mean I go to your family dinners.” You laughed. “This whole time I had you.”

Your gaze is on him, it feels like you're seeing him for the first time. This man, he’s not just your friend- he’s your everything. And for the first time in your life, you have this all-consuming urge to kiss him.

“I love you, Shoto.” You said. “I think I’ve loved you for a long time I was just too blind to see it.”

Shoto smiles at you and it’s blinding. You’ve never seen him so happy before. You move forward to be closer to him but you let out a hiss of pain. His expression turns into concern as he presses you back so you won’t hurt yourself.

“Can you come closer,” You said leaning back against your bed.

Shoto leans closer to you. It’s funny you’ve been this close to him before but it feels different now. It feels electric. “Is this better?”

“It is but-” You said raising your hand up to his cheek, gently brushing against his scar. “It’d be better if you kiss me.”

Shoto blushes but it doesn’t stop him from taking your face in his hands and leaning forward. His lips are soft against yours, eyes closed as his lips move against yours.

Your other hand moves to his neck and you can feel how fast his heart is beating.

He pulls back as you take a deep breath. It seems he can’t keep a smile off his face, it makes you smile despite the pain.

“I can’t believe I almost lost you.” He said. “I was so scared.”

There’s something about the rawness of his tone, it stirs up everything you kept down about this day. You almost died. You would have never had this realization that has changed your life course. You would have left Shoto heartbroken.

Tears well up in your eyes as you start to cry. Shoto is quick to comfort you. He pulls you close, holding you as you let it out. “It’s okay, you’re safe with me.” He coos into your ear. “You’ll always be safe with me.”

Once you calm down he slips into the bed with you, promising to stay with you overnight. You’re sure after his display today no one is going to tell him no.

Laying in the bed, his arm comfortably wrapped around you as you rest on his shoulder. You watch TV.

“Today a villain attack in the heart of downtown caused quite a stir.” The newswoman said. “When things started to look bad we saw top hero Shoto put on quite a display as he defeated the villain.”

The footage is even more crazy from the view from above. The flames around Shoto as the ice went haywire.

The footage jumps to an interview with a ‘hero expert’. “People consider Shoto to be a pretty stoic hero but today we saw an intense scene after his hero partner got injured badly.” They said. “It just goes to show how much more power we can see from these heroes when push comes to shove.”

You looked up at Shoto as he watched the TV. “I guess people won’t think of you as such an icy hero anymore.” You tease.

“I’m not icy.” He said.

“I know that.” You hummed, grabbing his hand in yours. “I think you are quite warm. Cozy even.” You smiled. He looked down at you with a heart-stopping smile. He looked at you with such endearment. “You’re just quiet but people don’t see the whole picture.”

“Like you do?”

“Yeah,” You smiled. “Shoto you’re kind and caring. You’re not this wall of ice that doesn’t falter. I’ve seen you take losses and I’ve seen you exhausted. You’re not this one note of a personality you’re so- so amazing and unique. There’s so much to you and they don’t even see a fraction of it.”

You lean up to press a kiss against his lips. “But I get to see it and I think that’s the greatest honor I’ve ever had.”

Shoto smiles at you as his had rests on your cheek as he pulls you in for another kiss. “You’re my heart.” He said. “You’re my everything.”

“I’m sorry I took so long to see it.” You said.

“It’s okay because this is just the beginning.” He smiled.

After cleaning up the mess that the battle made downtown and making sure the villain was squared away, Kirishima and Midoriya went to check to see how you were doing.

As they opened the door to your hospital room they saw Shoto in your bed, your head on his chest as his arms were wrapped around you protectively. Both of you were fast asleep. The two heroes smiled.

"Took them long enough," Midoriya said quietly as Kirishima laughed.

#mha #shoto x reader #shoto todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #todoroki shoto #my writing

452 notes · View notes

shibaraki · 8 months

Text

THE ARSONIST’S LULLABY ┊ TODOROKI TOUYA

synopsis: the theory is everyone has a metaphorical part of themselves frozen in childhood. a symbolic, younger version of the self that can still be saved.

dabi comes home with what seems to be a sleeping four year old in his arms and the look of a man who has just seen a ghost.

tags: GN reader, reader is a civilian, sorta established relationship (dabi is paranoid and allergic to labels), accidental child acquisition, angst and fluff, pre LOV (like right before), alludes to past canon child abuse, dissociation, family feels (dabi shithead big brother tendencies)

wc: 8K

“What the fuck—”

“Don’t,” Dabi hushed you frantically, far more frayed than you’ve ever seen him. Affronted, you open the door wider all the same, allowing him inside.

He’s careful with his movements as he kicks off his boots and ducks into the living room. The lump bundled in his jacket does not stir. Dabi lowers to a crouch and settles a young child on the sofa cushions. You note the deliberate care in which he slides his arms out from beneath the boy's body.

The coat lapels have slipped to reveal a child that can surely be no older than four years old. Waxen skin, full cheeks and a wind bitten nose. Most notable is the red hair, thick and fanning across the decorative pillow in undefined waves.

You feel inclined to tiptoe as you approach. Navigating the short space cautiously, knowing where to set your feet; avoiding the creaky floorboards you’ve long since memorised. Dabi lets out a shuddering breath and slumps back against the coffee table. Not once does he look at you even as you enter his vision.

Knelt at Dabi’s side, you evaluate the things laid out before you. The air remains tepid. There are no remnants of smoke clinging to his clothes. Your gaze sweeps over his body. He isn’t running hot, and the sutures aren’t weeping. Not a blood stain nor a burn mark to be seen. He is simply frozen, staring down at the boy.

The child, too, is unscathed. Under a thin T-shirt his small chest rises and falls. He wears an expression that can only be described as tranquil; part of this disturbs you, and tempts you to poke the kid, if only to make sure he isn’t a doll.

You brush your knuckles along his jaw. The kid runs cold but he’s warmer than expected after being rushed through the late evening streets without sleeves. No shoes on his feet either. Odd, considering his socks are clean.

There are a million questions clamouring in your head that you lose the opportunity to ask—that all lead to a single, heartbreaking answer—because the little boy stirs at your touch. His eyelids scrunch together as if to protest his own consciousness, then gradually open, irises as blue as early spring periwinkles peeking through slits.

Nausea grips you. A dark amalgamation of anger, anxiety, confusion and jealousy knotted itself deep in your gut. Those eyes—eyes just like Dabi’s, staring back at you, head tilting with a blank expression.

You take far too long to notice that he’s stopped breathing. Stuck in place, likely frightened to be somewhere unfamiliar, crowded by people he does not know. “Hi there sweetheart,” you say, willing yourself to smile reassuringly. “I know this must be scary for you but I promise you’re safe. We won’t hurt you”.

At that the little boy puffs up. “I’m not scared!”

Dabi scoffs. He hasn’t looked in the boy's direction since he woke up; you nudge his side, brow furrowed in disapproval. “Good. 'Cause you've got nothing to be scared of,” you tell him, glare softening as it slides back to the couch. “Do you think you could tell us your name?”

The silence is oppressive. You’re stared at as if you were a battle to be conquered. You sigh, “Alright. You don’t need to tell me. Stranger danger, right?”

Oddly enough, the boy doesn’t appear disturbed about his surroundings at all. You’d prepared yourself for tears, or some wailing. Instead he casually pushed himself upright into a sitting position and stretched his short arms high over his head, as if waking from a routine nap.

You draw air through your teeth, gasping as his shirt lifts with the stretch and reveals his belly. Dabi’s jaw winds at the sight. The air around you expands, thick with ephemeral warmth. He’s considerate to keep it there, boiling violently under his skin. His reaction nags at your conscience, and you want to grab him when he stands to walk away, but you’ve no choice but to prioritise the situation in front of you.

There are burns around the child’s midsection. Mottled pink and swollen. He rejects your touch as you reach out to examine him further. “You’re hurt, kiddo. We can help. Let me—”

“No!” he yells. You startle at the genuine heartbreak in his voice. He scrambles down and shoves past you. Rabbit footed, he sprints to the bathroom and slams the door. You strain to listen, relieved that he does not turn the lock, and debate going after him. Something about that childlike anger is deeply familiar.

Ice crawls through your chest; it’s a dread that lingers in your periphery yet evades perception the longer you try to put a finger on it. You throw another glance down the hallway as you stride toward the genkan. “Dabi,” you call firmly. His hands, bloodied with the runoff dirt and ash, continue scrubbing at the sole of his boot in an almost mechanical fashion. “Touya,” you try again, quieter, exercising caution when wielding that name. And his movement stutters. “You can’t just—go! Not now. He’s badly burned. Where did you even find him?”

You’re patient as he exhales a harsh breath; seems to grapple with his thoughts, a distant look in his eyes. Seeing him so unsettled is scaring you. “Does it really matter? He’ll probably be gone soon,” he mutters. A wave of defensiveness on behalf of the poor child bubbles to the surface. But before you can argue, he is tugging his cleaned boots on with sudden force.

Dabi stomps to settle the heel and pulls open your front door. It rattles on the hinges. A cold evening breeze billows into the apartment and bites at your bare arms. “I’ll be back later. Just pretend he’s not here,” he grunts. “He won’t notice the difference”.

“Wait, baby—!”

And he’s gone again.

You smother the frustrated yell that follows into your hands. There’s a faint sense of abandonment on the fringes, creeping in and forming a lump in your throat. Dabi always had to run first. You rub at your eyes until the sting disappears and exhale until all the air in your lungs is gone, taking with it your frustrations.

Somehow the hallway stretches that much longer. This time you press weight onto the old floorboards and hear them creak, making your presence known as you approach. There’s no noise behind the bathroom door. Your fingers curl around the handle but a gut feeling begs that you pause.

The soft knock of your knuckles to the frame echoes through the apartment. “It’s me,” you say. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, little guy. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t in pain”.

Your ears prick at the quiet movement inside the bathroom. The latch clicks as the handle turns and you move away as much as the narrow space can afford, the front of your sweater bunched up in your fist; it mirrors the child’s own stance, shifting in place gripping his shirt.

Now under the cheap flickering light you notice an uneven patch of white in his hair. There is something uncomfortably broken about him that you can’t place. A dissonance between his outline and the world, as though he were a pencil drawing in a watercolour canvas.

“M’not little,” he insists with a stomp, looking like he might cry. “Stop talkin’ to me like I’m a baby”.

“Alright. You’re not a baby, you’re a big kid,” you settle on your knees in front of him, lowering your voice in a way a child might consider more ‘grown up’, “But I still have to make sure you don’t need a doctor. So is it okay if I ask about the marks on your tummy?”

This time his reaction is far more subdued. Exhausted from his earlier anger, maybe. Or resigned to the fact that you will not let the injuries go. He jerked his shoulders and crossed both arms, staring down at his feet.

“Has someone been hurting you—did they do that to you?”

The kid huffs, indignant. “No,” he mumbles with a pout. Your eyes follow his fingers where they begin to anxiously clench and unclench. “My quirk”.

The admission is clearly difficult for him, like he has to force the words out of his mouth. You unfold your legs from beneath you and dip to try to meet his eyes, “Your quirk hurts you?”

“Not all the time!” there’s that flash of emotion again, racketing through him like thunder. If he were a kitten you think all the hair on his body would be on end. “If—if I train more I bet it wouldn’t,” he sniffs. “But father told me I can’t do that anymore”.

“Oh,” you’re taken aback at the mention of another father figure. You feel a growing dislike for the unknown man. “Well that’s kinda silly. How will you ever learn to use it safely if you don’t practice?”

Finally, the boy’s glassy eyes snap up and meet your own. He’s practically glowing; awestruck, as though you’d turned his entire worldview on its head with just a few words. “Right, right?” he begins to bounce on the balls of his feet. “I’m gonna be the bestest, strongest hero. Better than All Might!”

Your thoughts stall, reaction delayed. Only Dabi would bring home a kid who loves heroes—that is if they’re related at all. You find it hard to believe. Those eyes do not lie.

“That right?” you let yourself be influenced by his enthusiasm and mirror his grin. Whatever Dabi did or did not omit it’s not the kids fault. “Well, I’ll be cheering you on from the sidelines. How about that?”

“Yeah! You’ll see!” your heart clenches at the sight of his little leg stomping excitedly as he rubs at his eyes. A hiccup wracks his body. Telegraphing your movements you rest a hand at his back, rubbing back and forth to calm him. Such an extreme response to such a simple praise.

After some gentle cajoling you manage to get him to sit on a stool in the kitchen with some apple juice that you miraculously had in the fridge. Your eyes linger on the glass in his hands as you apply the medicated cream to his stomach, barely big enough to hold it.

You exhale, fingers pausing by his waist. The sight is hard to swallow. The tissue is smooth to touch and irregularly shaped, as though the scar had outgrew the initial wound. Even as you reached the inflamed sections he hadn’t so much as flinched; again you're reminded of Dabi, his impassive expression perched on the edge of your bathtub, skin swelling around his sutures, a merry scarlet waterfall weeping from the exposed wounds.

“Where did that man go?” he asks, pulling you from your reverie.

“Ah, he needed to go get something,” the lie is unconvincing even to your own ears. Discomfited, you clear your throat and add, “You can call him Dabi when he’s back”.

You search for his discarded shirt while he tests the name with his own voice. Small mouth shaped around the syllables, da-bi, and spitting it out quick again, dabi. “That’s right. Dabi. You like his name?” the kid staunchly shakes his head, hair falling over his eyes. He pushes it back with both of his hands.

“S’dumb,” he says. The bluntness makes you laugh.

“I bet your name is cooler, right?” that catches his attention. He nods once with a firm hum. “You wanna tell me it now?”

Your efforts seemed to fall flat. The child would not tell you his name; during the numerous attempts in the hours that followed, you got the sense that he couldn’t tell you. And he would get this odd look about him, as if it was you asking that was confusing to him. As if you should already know.

Far more concerning to you is that he never asks to go home. Not once does he mention his mother or father of his own volition. After countless questions you can discern that his knowledge is strangely limited. He seems frozen in time, with no real memory of how Dabi found him.

The hours pass uninterrupted when your curiosity veers away from his circumstances and closer to him. To things he loves, and the like. You carry him on your hip, surprisingly light, and settle him back on the couch as he rambled about Caped Kid and Supertoon and the old All Might animated shorts that you forgot even existed. He kicks his feet along the cushions excitedly when you find some pirated clips online for him to watch.

By the time Dabi comes home the kid has fallen asleep, right back where he first left him. Your arms cross over your chest, the earlier anger rising once more, but something about his expression wills you to temper it.

Dabi is wet through. Soaked to the bone, clothes hanging on his frame. Black streaks are running down his cheeks, and despite your disappointment you hastily tug your sleeve over your hand as you start forward, bringing it up to dab away the dye before it seeps into his sutures.

It’s a relief that he doesn’t flinch away. Not even as his gaze drifts to the TV, which has automatically started up another All Might clip. No vitriol comes. A warm, savoury smell fills your senses and you notice that he’s carrying a plastic bag.

“Brought food,” he rasps. You look back up and meet his eyes, unnerved at how far away he sounds.

“Thank you,” you murmur. Casting a final glance to the young boy on your couch—laying suspiciously still—you wrap fingers around Dabi’s cold wrist and coax him into the kitchen. He sets the food on the counter and in letting go the plastic handle is left upright, misshapen from the responsive heat of his quirk.

He inhales, readying himself to speak, but you gently interrupt, “I think you should shower first. Change into something comfortable. I’ll… I’ll serve the food”.

Dabi sighs but slinks away to the bathroom at your suggestion. You watch him bristle and glare halfheartedly at the head peeking up from behind the couch cushions and the boy shrinks back. Not a moment later the door slams and he flinches, chubby fingers clutching tight to the upholstery.

“Is Dabi mad?” the small voice asks. Sullen in a way that draws you closer to comfort him. Your hand comes to rest on the crown of his head, petting him now that he’ll let you.

“No, no,” you demurred. “Well. Maybe he is, but he’s just having a lot of uh, big feelings”.

“Big feelings,” the boy nods. Then he peers up at you searchingly, “…Is he melting?”

Having expected him to ask literally anything but that, you give a soft laugh. “Dabi isn’t melting. It’s the colour in his hair. He painted it and if it gets wet it washes out, like you saw”.

“Oh”.

The kid is calmer now, no longer ready to bury himself between the cushions. “He brought food back. Smells like curry,” you tell him. “Want some?”

Returning to the kitchen after an enthusiastic ‘yes’—pushed out between a big yawn—you unwrap the takeout boxes and begin to portion them. Dabi finished his shower, dressed in the loose fitted sweatpants and t-shirt you kept for the nights he felt comfortable enough to stay, and accepted the plate you put in his hands.

Together, you eat around the kotatsu in relative silence filled only by the limited ramblings of the child Dabi brought home. He’s the type to express things with his entire body, the type that cannot sit still, and you find yourself shooting Dabi the odd furtive glance, worried he might snap, almost daring him to try.

But Dabi does not snap. He doesn’t look at either of you. You note the tension in his shoulders, winding tighter with every mention of the word ‘hero’, and how his fist clenches and uncurls, knuckles white where the blood recedes. He keeps his head down, forearm curled protectively around the food on his plate as he eats, and doesn’t say a word.

You’ve never met anyone else who can so readily act as though they’re unfeeling. The embodiment of feigned indifference. Dabi was so confident in his detachment, with the scathing comments, comfort in violence and purposefully unapproachable demeanour, but you knew what lie underneath; you can tell when it’s an act and when it’s real, and right now he’s never been more transparent.

The boy starts to droop into his food some time during the next Caped Kid episode. Your hand shoots out to cup his chin when his head wobbles on his shoulders, close to using the rice as a pillow. “He’s all tuckered out again,” you comment aloud, licking your thumb to wipe at the sauce around his mouth. “Can you take the—?”

Dabi is already standing, stacking the plates atop one another without so much as trying to be quiet. You roll your eyes to the ceiling, seeking strength, and tuck the little boy to your front, hoisting him back up into the couch. He stirs and blinks around the room as though seeing for the first time.

“It’s alright. Go back to sleep,” you whisper. He yawns, jaw stretching around such a tiny squeak that you can’t help but to kiss his hair.

Dabi is standing at the sink, back turned to the dirty dishes and leant against the counter. Your eyes meet, but you pointedly look away and say nothing as you step forward to gather the empty takeout boxes and throw them out.

He speaks, if only to fill the silence, “I shouldn’t have walked out”.

It’s the closest to an apology you’ll probably ever get. “Y’think?” you hesitated for a long minute, speaking only as you sensed his presence at your back. “Actually, what the fuck were you thinking?”

Really, your relationship with Dabi has always been chimerical in nature. Some strange patchwork attempt at being human. You fucked, kissed one another at the door, shared parts of your lives that you wished you never had. Labels only drove him away, like identifying the thing you’d woven together would bring it to actuality, make it corporeal, ridding you of plausible deniability.

It was never a question why he brought the kid here. This is where you play house, after all. Dabi��s shoebox apartment was empty, simply a place to go when he wasn’t out doing who knows what, like a waiting room. A space between spaces. Yours was far more appropriate for a child, and you’d thought that maybe—he chose to trust you enough, to finally ask for help, rather than doing it out of convenience.

Heat soaks through your shirt as his mottled, slender hand settles on your waist. You turn on your heel to face him directly, resolve weakening at the careful squeeze of his fingers. You sigh, palms brushing featherlight up the uneven flesh along his forearms and follow as he retreated backward to lower onto the nearby breakfast stool.

“I was hit with a quirk on my way back”.

“What?” your inner conflict falters. Concern superseding your anger you cup his jaw to tip his head back and side to side to get a good look at him. “When? Are you hurt?”

Dabi snorts, relaxed by your gentle countenance and fretting. “Not now. Earlier. Some middle schooler without a handle on her quirk yet. Quit fussin’, I’m fine,” he continues and shakes free of your hands, so you settle them on his shoulders. He walks his fingers behind your knees, cupping the back of your thighs, uncharacteristically restless.

“It’s where the…“ his jaw clenched and he pressed his forehead hard to your stomach, burrowing into the fabric. Anticipation grips your lungs when he doesn’t immediately explain.

“Talk to me baby,” you run your fingers through his hair and they come away stained black. “How did—what does the quirk do?”

“Fuck, I hardly had time to ask about specifics. The stupid kid knocked into me and suddenly I had my arms full,” Dabi’s snarling dwindles. He licks his lips, hesitant, and casts his eyes to the narrow space between your bodies. Quieter this time, “It’s where he came from”.

You register his words. The realisation slides through you with sharp clarity. It swells in you, all encompassing and painful, like love and heartbreak at the same time. “He’s not yours, is he?” you say, reminiscent of a whisper. “He’s you”.

“My inner child. Some pseudo bullshit like that,” Dabi supplies, as though the distinction was important. He looks up, the column of his throat pressed to your sternum, and your chest loosens a little, some of the fear ebbing. “Did you seriously think I knocked someone up?”

“Plausibly, what else was I supposed to think?”

“Not that,” he scoffs. “Either way, I don’t know how long we’re stuck with him”.

“Don’t talk about him like he’s a burden,” you frowned. Dabi’s eyes squint, and he makes a low, dubious noise. “Why didn’t you tell me straight away?”

“Didn’t want you to know,” he shrugs. It shouldn’t sting the way it does. This is hardly the first time Dabi kept something from you. “Thought I could make the kid keep his mouth shut about my family”.

Inwardly you think he needn’t worry about that. They were as secretive and stubborn as each other, in that respect. Hell, it took Dabi three years to give up his name and that was only because he’d been delirious at the time.

“But you left anyway”.

“He woke up,” Dabi says, like that was enough explanation. You give a commiserate nod, cradling his rough jaw, because maybe it is. “Needed to blow off some steam. Figured I might look for the twerp that caused all this but she’d probably run if she saw me again”.

“Don’t tell me you scared the poor girl shitless?”

“Alright. I won’t tell you,” he snorted, biting at the heel of your hand when you mutter his name disapprovingly.

“So we just wait for him to go?” you brush the remaining skin between his eye and his cheek with your thumb, following the curve of his sutures. “Maybe it is psychological then. Make your inner child happy and the quirk might cancel out sooner”.

There’s something dark in Dabi’s expression when his mouth pulls wide into a smarmy grin, eyes burning as his fingers dig into your thighs. “Looking to rehabilitate me, sweetheart?”

You soon put that to rest, guiding him into a kiss. His grip falls slack, and then returns, more needy than dangerous. Dabi’s lips pressed back, insisted, softer than you thought possible. “Course not,” you murmur, admiring the resentful flush on his face as you draw back. “Maybe I like you as you are. Just a little”.

“Bad taste,” he breathes. His nose scrunches the way it always does when he’s feeling too much, and you kiss that too. You recognise Dabi’s flaws for what they are, and you’ve given yourself to him knowingly. Even so, in the confines of your mind, you do wish he might’ve had the chance to be something better.

This inner child incident could be a small step. You don’t expect his perspective on society will change; he could learn compassion and forgive himself for whatever led him here. But what exactly is an inner child?

The theory goes that everyone has a metaphorical part of themselves frozen in childhood. A symbolic, younger version of the self that can be talked to, supported, and guided—that can still be saved.

Dabi informs you with great reluctance that this little Touya was probably closer to five years old, and stuck in the time right after his first brother was born. You never knew he had siblings.

“Did something significant happen around that time?” you worry at your bottom lip, glancing out toward the living room, shrouded in darkness now that the TV has switched to standby. “Do you remember what you wanted most, from before?”

You hear your name. You’re startled by the intensity in Dabi’s stare, unyielding and sharp. A primitive part of you wants to shrink back from it. “Don’t push it,” he says.

It was on the tip of your tongue to remark something equally catty. Instead you swallow them. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” you muttered. Through trial and error you’ve already memorised the ley lines that make up Dabi’s boundaries and know well enough that prying too far into his past, or encroaching on his future plans, is a hard no-no.

“We’re going to need a cover story for him if he’s here longer than a day,” you continue, a smile creeping in alongside your teasing inflection. “Guess you’re a dad—”

“Not a chance in hell,” Dabi grimaces, skin taut around his scars. “If it comes to it, say he’s my nephew”.

“You’re no fun,” you concede. “Fine. Uncle Dabi”.

The discussion leads nowhere in the end. Dabi is unwilling to delve any further into his childhood and you know a losing battle when you see one. You turn your attention to the sleeping arrangements, and decide that it would be best to roll out your spare futons in the living room, just in case something happens.

And Dabi, despite his objections, despite puttering around with pillows under each arm and cursing under his breath, throws them down and sprawls out across the blankets. You feel his stare as you move Touya—as you’ve taken to calling him in your head—from his resting place to the space between your bodies.

Touya isn’t yet the light sleeper you know Dabi to be. His eyes shift behind closed lids and his lips curl in momentary discomfort but he doesn’t wake. “Does he have to sleep there?” Dabi all but sneers when Touya curls into your warm chest, much the way he would like to.

“Aw. Don’t be jealous,” you pillow Touya’s head on your shoulder and reach across to take Dabi’s hand, entwining your fingers through stubborn means. “He’s just a baby”.

A fresh wave of heat ripples around your hands and Dabi’s grip is solid, as though you’ve been soldered together. “He’s not a baby. He’s already five,” he mutters with a faraway look in his eyes, indifferent to the callousness in his words.

Your palms kiss and you aim for a lighthearted tone, “Stop being a dick. You’ll have me to yourself again soon enough”.

Dabi grunts and some of the tension is relieved from the atmosphere, his face thrown into stark relief by the sliver of moonlight flooding through your curtains. Not for the first time, you wonder if he feels the after aches of childhood—if the hollow inside him felt that much deeper now that Touya was out here, safe in your arms—and suddenly holding his hand is not enough.

You entangle your legs and distract yourself with the feel of his boney ankle. Some things are better left unknown, you reason. A mantra that encompasses your relationship. Better not pick and prod. You’ve done quite enough of it already, more than you’re entitled to. Sometimes you worry that one day you’ll unravel the wrong thread and he’ll never stop bleeding.

Touya clutches tighter to your shirt. Kicks a tiny foot against your pelvis in protest of the movement, surprisingly hard. Dabi snickers at your restrained groan. “Guess you’ve always been a restless sleeper”.

“That's what you get for giving him my spot,” Dabi says, the beginnings of a smile in his voice. “Was worse when I was a kid”.

“Clearly. A fly could sneeze and wake you up,” you remove the heel from your stomach and let it tangle with the blankets. Touya suddenly flips onto his back, arm cast out toward Dabi, not far from smacking him in the face. “Atleast he feels safe, I suppose”.

The night settles, your apartment alongside it. Walls quietly groan as the wind picks up a fraction. “We should take him somewhere tomorrow,” you think aloud, staring at the hairline fracture in the ceiling. “The arcade, maybe”.

“Now why the fuck would we do that?” Dabi’s voice is lower, muffled, and a quick sidelong glance confirms that his mouth is half squashed into the pillow, fatigue starting to weigh on him. “Don’t even have clothes for him”.

“Kano-san might let us borrow some,” you offer tiredly. Though your neighbour's four children were all over five years old you had no doubt she kept hand-me-downs. “It’s not fair to just keep him holed up til he disappears”.

“I refuse…” Dabi mumbled. You snort, resting your chin on Touya’s crown, swaddled by warmth. Shadows creep in and blur the edges of your vision. You’re gently coaxed into sleep, final thoughts being the hope that Dabi would still be there tomorrow.

What you receive is far more. Where soft moonlight once drifted in through the cracks, harsh sun is striking through the dim room, right against your closed eyes. You flinch away from it, turning into your pillow. Half-awake, you aren’t quite in and not quite outside yourself, but you are conscious enough to hear Dabi laugh at your displeasure.

The weight in your arms is gone. Pawing at the yawning emptiness, you abruptly sit up and whip your eyes around the room. They land on Dabi, who is laid on his back and surrendering to his current predicament. He pointedly avoids acknowledging it.

Time stretches thinly as you take in the scene. At some point in the night, Touya had made his way over to Dabi and laid himself on top of him. Chubby cheek squished to Dabi’s sternum, lashes fluttering as he dreams. Fleeting, you consider that he may be trying to crawl right back into him.

“G’morning,” you sigh, blood rushing to your limbs as you contort and stretch. Unable to resist, you shuffle across the futon and press yourself to Dabi’s side, nuzzling into his shoulder. You tilt your head up to find Dabi looking down at you. “Kiss?”

“Your breath stinks,” but he kisses you anyway. His own is hardly better. You nip at his lip, licking over the faint sting and drawing back before he can reciprocate.

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah,” his hands gesture toward the lump on his chest, “until this shit happened”.

“Now he’s taken my spot”. You could point out that Dabi had every opportunity to move the boy through the night, or however long he’d been there, but didn't. “Though it makes sense he’d want to be near you”.

“He doesn’t want anything. He’s not real,” Dabi drawls. He’s betrayed by the arm that supports Touya from beneath as he sits up exceedingly slowly, the other holding the back of his head. Dabi pivots the small figure into his lap, acting like a cradle.

Limbs akimbo, Touya lies on his back, mouth open and ribs expanding with each breath. His clothes are askew. Shirt ridden up his round belly, loose pants bunched up at the knees. To your relief the burn marks look no worse than the day before.

“Even though his body isn’t suited to his quirk, he still…” your voice is but a murmur as you sit up to trace a fingertip over the swell of his pink cheek. “He’s a very brave little boy”

Dabi held the toddler delicately in his arms, a fraction away from his body, and paled whenever he stirred a little. You see how his pupils soften, tension seeping from his shoulders bit by bit. “Or maybe he’s just stupid," he rasps.

“Well, many heroes are both of those things,” you offer, mouth curling as you hold Dabi’s half lidded gaze. His mouth presses thin so as not to give you the satisfaction of making him smile. When your attention returns to Touya an unfamiliar quietude comes over you.

“Last night,” he starts. “I left because I thought it would be harder”.

You pause, peering up from the little boy curled in his lap. “To what?”

“Not to hurt him,” he says, quietly. “Or you”.

Then Touya sputters a first, clean breath, breaking into a drawn out sob that drags you from processing what that could mean. Dabi grows tense and your hand flutters across Touya, rubbing over his chest as you coo and hush. The louder he cries the stronger the tremor in Dabi’s hand becomes.

“There there, little guy. We’re right here,” you slip an arm around Dabi’s back, and suddenly your murmurings begin to soothe Touya’s distress. Red rimmed eyes squint up at you. “Did you have a nightmare, buddy?”

“Heroes—” Touya eventually hiccups and jolts. Frustrated he hits himself, face twisted in devastating anger. “Heroes don’t—have nightmares!”

You move to still his fists but Dabi beats you to it, fingers circling a pair of wrists and holding them firmly. “They will if I have anything to say about it,” he says.

“Really, Dabi,” you admonish, pursing your lips at him. He wrinkles his nose and sticks his tongue out in response. Muffled giggling fills the room and you realise it’s coming from the bundle in his lap.

Dabi looks as if he’s been struck. A finger pokes at the skin above his puckered cheek. “Dabi made an ugly face,” Touya grins.

“Oh yeah?” Dabi growls and leans forward, spine bending uncomfortably just to get into the boy’s personal space. “Well I’ve got bad news for you, kid”.

Whatever the desired effect, Touya’s chime-like laughter only doubles, and while watching their interaction you feel warmth ignite behind your breastbone.

Not long after, you return from Kano-san’s upstairs apartment with a cotton sweater, discoloured patches sewn onto the elbows, and a pair of pants. They’re size five yet too big for Touya, so you roll them to the ankle. “How’s that?” you ask, getting to your feet. “It’s not itchy on your burns, is it?”

Touya wriggles. You’ve come to learn that he really can’t sit still, especially when you’re fussing. “No,” he says, flapping the sleeves that fall over his hands, silently asking that you roll those up too. “Where are we going? I want to train!”

“No training inside. You’re going to set off my fire alarm,” you reply, absentminded as your fingers gently fold back the shirtsleeves to his wrist. “And we’re going to the arcades first. You can beat Dabi at all the games”.

“Yeah!”

“Fat chance,” Dabi calls from the bathroom. Light footsteps echo through the hallway and his voice grows louder. “We’re not going anywhere near Musutafu,” he adds, shucking on his dried black coat over a plain t-shirt and jeans that may as well have been painted on his legs. He pulls something out from his pocket and throws it, “Put that on him to be safe”.

You catch the lump one handed, bringing it down to inspect it. A beanie hat. “Is that really necessary?” you murmur, releasing your grasp when Touya decides he wants the hat for himself and stretches it haphazardly over his head.

Dabi rounds the couch and hooks his chin over your shoulder, watching the kid struggle. “Can’t have him being recognised…” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching at a thought that suddenly crosses his mind. “Or maybe we should. Hey, kid,” Touya’s head whirls around the room in search of Dabi, vision blocked by the beanie; he pushes it up above his eyebrows, periwinkle eyes peeking beneath.

“Wanna go to my old house and scare someone?”

Touya’s lips thin and his nose crinkles, managing to look down at Dabi despite being so much shorter. “Heroes aren’t ‘posed to scare people,” he argued.

“Whatever. This guy isn’t good,” Dabi huffs, wincing at the click in his knees as he crouches in front of the boy to fix the hat seam, and Touya positively preens under Dabi’s direct attention. “This guy hurts people. Hurts his family. Probably deserves it, right?”

You watch in disbelief as Touya hums and begins to consider it. “Okay that’s enough,” you circle and coax them toward the genkan. “We aren’t scaring anyone. We are going to the arcade and we’re not going to cause trouble. Yes?”

Dabi and Touya share a long, knowing look. You can’t say you’re unhappy that they’re connecting—they’re unbearably cute when standing side by side, dithering as you slip on your shoes. “Yes?” you repeat yourself with more emphasis.

They nod in tandem.

“Good. Now who is holding my hand?”

Daylight feeds in through the sparse grey clouds, upper wind guiding them east where they darken, likely raining over another part of the city. The pavements are wet, rainwater fed into the uprooted cracks. A couple smile at you as they pass. It is rare for anyone to glance your way when Dabi’s at your side; he knows the image he projects and he likes it that way. But today, with Touya in the middle holding one of each hand, you paint a far lovelier picture.

You think you must look like a family, on the outside. It’s nothing you ever imagined for yourself. Especially not with Dabi, who was seemingly hell bent on getting himself arrested, or killed, in his spare time—not that you knew the finer details, but you weren’t dense.

“I can feel your street cred depleting,” you quietly tease as you stop at a pedestrian crossing, bridging the gap while Touya is preoccupied with counting down until the red man turns green. “Uncle Dabi”.

Dabi’s upper lip curls and he lurches half a step, as if to attack you, and you pull away laughing.

Your neighbourhood doesn’t see much in the way of funding, or heroes, and that truth is reflected in the surroundings. Buildings half constructed, shutters down, people lingering on the streets. Touya presses a hairsbreadth closer to Dabi, sensing how eyes turn to him, and you catch the way Dabi squeezes his small hand in response.

“Scared?”

Touya straightens, “No!”

Dabi snorts, “Thought not”.

The arcade isn’t far. Well beyond its years, an old musk clings to the carpets despite the open windows. Light bulbs flicker here and there. You can taste electricity buzzing in the air. The machines are outdated, but they work. High pitched, quick paced music paces from all directions. If you had to, you'd describe it as the embodiment of sensory overload.

As luck would have it Touya recognises most of the games, having been released around his time. He steps on your shoes to watch raptly while you try to win him a prize on the claw machines, and he kneels at your feet to steal any ticket away before you can grab them.

He frees himself of your grip the moment he spots Crimson Fighter. You sidle up beside Dabi as if to shield from it all. His knuckles brush the back of your hand and you smile to yourself. So starved for affection yet so intensely humiliated by it—that and the fact that he cannot seem to let Touya out of his sight, only a few feet away.

You loosely entwine your fingers and he relaxes. “Not gonna play another round with him?”

“Why don’t you?”

In that instant you hear the repeated call of your name. Touya bounces from left to right, waving you over. “Look at me! Come watch!” he beams. “Look at me, I can win!”

Dabi’s fingers flex, tighten, digging crescent moons into your knuckles. You shoot him a worried glance but the light in his eyes has dimmed once again, and you tug him over towards Touya like a kite on a string, keeping him tethered until he returns from whatever memory he’s lost in.

“I’m looking, I'm looking,” you titter, standing behind him and tilting to watch the screen. Dabi’s presence lingers. Your heart pangs when Touya stands on the tips of his toes to reach the controls. He picks the Endeavor avatar and the game opens up onto a floating platform, All Might standing at the other end.

“Fight!” Touya whispers in sync with the narrator, mashing all the buttons without direction or strategy. He clicks and clicks and clicks until Endeavor’s quirk bar is maxed out and he releases; pixelated flames burst across the screen, doing significant damage to All Might but not enough—and too much to himself. The Endeavor avatar drops to his knees, overcome by dehydration and exhaustion, defeated by his own flame.

Apparently brought back to the present, Dabi laughs.

“No…” Touya’s eyes grow round in disbelief and then harden. He kicks the machine with as much force as he can muster. Before he can do it again you’ve wrapped an arm under his armpits and herded him outside. “Let go!”

“Absolutely not,” you grasp his elbows and settle on your haunches. Touya turns his head away from you in dramatic fashion. “That isn’t okay. These games belong to someone else. They’re not yours to damage”.

“Shouldn’t’a picked Endeavor,” Dabi remarks.

Your neck aches as it snaps up to glare at him. “Not helping,” you hiss through gritted teeth. He puts his hands up in a show of surrender and you inhale until your lungs feel tight. Exhale.

Touya has fallen suspiciously quiet, chin tucked to his chest, and thankfully nobody inside noticed his brief outburst. “Hey,” gently, you run your palms along his shoulders. “Talk to me, kiddo. I promise you’re not in big trouble”.

Your ears pick up fragmented parts of his mumbling, “Lost… M’weak… Endeavor… stronger… not ‘posed to lose”. Something about his reaction is both fragile and momentous, and with Dabi nearby your instincts are telling you to tread carefully.

“Hey, listen to me. I don’t know much but I do know you’re not weak,” you begin to smooth down his sweater, and fiddle with the seam of his beanie while you talk—fretting, admittedly, and determined to wipe the heartbreak off his face. “You’re the strongest little dude I know”.

Touya sniffs, unconvinced. He waddles further into your embrace and you take it as a win “Gotta be stronger than All Might”.

“One day you could be,” you reason, gathering him against your front and hoisting him up as his legs wrap around your waist. A firm body stands behind you. Dabi is closer than anticipated and you falter, meeting his half lidded eyes. Reality stomps over the little charade you’ve created—recalling that the boy in your arms, so desperate to reach the pinnacle of heroics, will one day be Dabi, the self proclaimed villain.

“Y’know, even All Might didn’t become the number one hero until he was thirty,” you tuck a wayward curl back into Touya’s beanie and use your sleeve to wipe his damp cheeks. “He had to learn to control his quirk and get through hero school, just like you will. It takes time”.

“R—really…?” you’d be remiss not to notice the hope in his voice as he fists at his sweater, stretching the fabric further. “But I need to be strong now,” he insists thickly, a fresh round of tears at his waterline.

Dabi steps closer as more people pass by, nudging you into a dead end alley. There’s heat emanating from his skin, making ripples in the air. You hold his gaze with purpose, turning until Touya is once again enveloped by your bodies, and the boy instinctively reaches for his adult counterpart.

“You are strong,” you tell him, pressing a kiss to Touya’s temple. “Wanna know what Dabi and I were talking about while you were sleeping this morning?”

Touya’s mouth quivers, sneaking a furtive glance. He nods. You narrow your eyes at Dabi, try to tell him that this could be it, and he relents, accepting the weight as it is passed to him.

Touya settles in his arms. “We…” Dabi’s jaw ticks. There’s a depression in his cheek where the inner flesh is held between teeth. “We said that you’re brave”.

You circle your arms around his middle, around Touya, and rest your cheek on his shoulder. Touya blinks in awe. “Brave?”

“Brave for trying so hard to reach your goal,” Dabi continues. The harsh edge to his voice has puttered out into melancholy. “Even when it hurts. Especially then”.

“I am?”

“You are,” you murmur, cradling the back of Touya’s head. There’s an odd sheen to his skin. Translucent almost. Your heart jolts. Conflicting emotions swell in your chest, leaving you torn. “I heard heroes have that in spades”.

Eyes bright and wide, undoubtedly that of a child, Touya looks at Dabi, and Dabi looks back. “You’d be one of the good ones, kid,” he rasps. It comes like pulling teeth but he means it, and Touya must know—the quirk must hear the sincerity, because the little boy beams and the air tastes sharp. He lights up, eyes first, like dusk catching on stained glass windows, robin egg blue overcast with shades of pink, heat suffusing through his bones until—

Your fingers enclose around the limp fabric of Touya’s beanie. Dabi shudders an exhale. The patched sweater falls limp over his crossed arms.

“That… worked?”

Dabi’s mouth opens and closes, lips shaping around words he doesn’t know how to say. You cannot read his expression at all. You yourself can hardly register Touya’s absence, left like a bruise that you just know is going to start aching the second the adrenaline wears off.

“I guess it did,” he finally agrees, quietly. Not quite whispered, but his voice carried no strength. Through the discomfit cuts an abrupt, shrill beep. Dabi swallows, and after pulling out his phone his expression sours.

“Who is it?”

“An associate,” he says, hands an unsteady counterpoint to the surety in his voice. Another blatant cover that you know better than to peel back. “…He wants me to meet his new colleagues. He thinks I’ll work well with them”.

“Do you need to go now, or…?” your skin prickles with unease, leaning into him as close and psychics would allow, not wanting to part with him.

“Think you’ll miss him?” Dabi asks instead, bordering on hesitation. Your head tilts at the sudden change in topic. His gaze dips low to avoid yours. You rest your hand over his chest. His heart beats against your palm, hard and steady. You wonder what, if anything, Touya’s time here might’ve changed.

“I don’t have to,” you tell him, choosing your words carefully. “He’s right in here”.

Dabi hums in that way he often does when he thinks you’re being ridiculous. Your thumb moves back and forth, shifting the fabric of his shirt. “…He deserved better,” you say, heedless of the cold determination setting into Dabi’s bones. And later, despite being the truth, you would come to regret voicing it.

He looks back at the message on his phone, typing out a reply with his screen tilted away from prying eyes. “You’re right,” he mutters.

“He did”.

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #dabi x reader #todoroki touya x reader

1K notes · View notes