Synopsis: a boring meeting that Tomura forced Dabi to attend takes an unexpected 180-degree turn the moment the flame villain opens a video you sent him
A/N: this fic was written in celebration of Dabi’s upcoming birthday. An early happy birthday to my sweet, hottest villain! If you enjoy my writing, please consider leaving a tip ♥ The art used on the banner was made by YotsumiShiro
MY HERO ACADEMIA - 3
The late-afternoon sun slanted through the half-shut blinds of the Paranormal Liberation Front safe-house, stripping the long conference table in alternating bars of gold and black.
Dabi sat near the head of the table, slouched deep in his chair like he might melt straight through it. One hand was buried in the pocket of his hoodie, knuckles tense despite the casual posture, while the other cradled his phone just beneath the table’s edge.
Around him, the meeting unraveled into its usual brand of noise: Tomura snapping at Re-Destro with all the subtlety of a lit fuse, Skeptic droning on about dark-web funding routes no one but him truly cared about, Twice loudly announcing, twice, that he was bored out of his skull.
Dabi heard it all without listening to any of it. His attention was fixed on the screen glowing softly in his palm, thumb hovering just above the play button of the video you had sent him exactly four minutes ago. He hadn’t pressed play yet; not because he wasn’t aching to, but because this was different. This was the first time you’d sent him a video, not a voice note, nor a string of text he could reread until the words burned into his skull.
Truth was, he hadn’t wanted to come to this meeting at all. He’d made that perfectly clear the day before, voice flat, interest nonexistent, already halfway out the door, until Shigaraki’s tone had sliced through him, sharp and non-negotiable. The meeting was mandatory.
So Dabi had shown up, if only to shut his boss up. Anyone with half a brain could tell, though, that only his body had bothered taking a seat at the table. The rest of him was somewhere else entirely.
With you.
He imagined the familiar weight of you tucked against his side, his arm wrapped tight around the curve of your waist like he needed to anchor himself there. His other hand massaged your scalp, threading through your hair, tugging just slightly, not to hurt, but to feel the way you’d lean into it, like you always did.
A corner of his mouth twitched upwards at the thought.
The room erupted into louder arguing, someone shouting his name, but Dabi didn’t look up. He finally tapped the screen. A flick of his thumb opened the message. The thumbnail froze on the first frame - your bedroom ceiling, fan spinning lazy circles, the corner of the mattress visible. He tilted the phone toward his lap before anyone noticed as his pulse hammered against the inside of his throat.
The meeting had barely started; if he excused himself now, Re-Destro would launch into another motivational monologue the second he returned.
Thankfully, Dabi was never without his in-ear headphones. He flipped open the small black case with practiced ease, plucked one out, and slid it into his ear, sealing the rest of the room out as neatly as closing a door. Then, Dabi pressed play.
At first, it was only a teasing close-up of your lips, glossy and parted, whispering his name. You pulled back, revealing the camera’s full view: you knelt on your shared bed, wearing nothing but a thin black thong that cut between the plump cheeks of your plushy ass.
You must have set the camera on the nightstand, Dabi thought to himself.
Your skin looked freshly lotioned, shimmering like silk. You propped yourself up on your elbows, arching your back just enough to push your hips high so your round ass filled the frame. You shook it slowly left, right, left, right; the flesh bouncing with deliberate heft, each ripple timed to the beat of breathy laughter of yours. Your voice slipped through the speaker, “Look what you’re missing, babe.”
Dabi’s pulse hammered.
Around him, the PLF members were bickering about the same nonsense as always.
Dabi should have muted the clip, but the faint sounds of your ragged breathing, soft giggles, and the smack of your hand against your plump ass bled through the earbud anyway, making him dizzy.
A bead of sweat traced down the side of his neck as you rolled onto your back, legs parting slowly.
Your palms cupped both breasts, thumbs flicking the nipples until they puckered stiff. You squeezed the generous mounds together, letting them spill and bounce, lifting one toward your mouth so your tongue could swipe a slow circle around the perky nipple. The hard bud glistened with saliva, and you sighed in a tempting tone, “Wish your mouth was here.”
Skeptic raised his voice, grilling Dabi about the latest funding discrepancies, and Dabi responded automatically, muttering that he didn’t know and that Toga had probably blown it all on some pointless crap again. The burnt man was way too focused on the video he was watching, and on the screen, your right hand slid into the valley between your tits and travelled down your body.
You traced the waistband of your thong, snapped it against your hip for the playful sting, then tugged it aside, revealing the slick seam of your pussy. The inner lips looked swollen, flushed a deeper pink. You parted them with two fingers, unveiling the shine of fresh arousal coating every fold. A single digit slipped inside, and you bit your lower lip, muffling a moan. Slowly, you fucked your needy hole with your finger, the wet click of penetration audible even when your moans grew louder. Your hips rolled upward to meet each plunge, and you breathed his name again, louder this time. “Dabi!”
A low, heavy sigh slipped through Dabi’s nose as the man shifted, feigning an adjustment in his chair while subtly angling it under the table. His cock strained the zip of his dark blue pants, throbbing in time with the quickening beat of his heart. Dabi eased the buckle of his belt and slowly opened his fly. His swollen length sprang against his boxers, damp spot blooming where precum soaked through material already. He palmed himself covertly, stifling a low grunt with a quick cough, when you added a second finger inside your glistening hole.
The pink rim stretched around your knuckles, gripping like silk-lined steel. On every inward push you gave a throaty grunt that ended in a moan of his name, making the cadence quicker.
The careful stroke up his shaft drew a bead of precum down the crown, and Dabi smeared it down the underside of his dick with his thumb, foreskin gliding fore and back while his gaze remained fixed on the screen of his phone.
On the screen, you slowly pulled the fingers out of your pussy and dragged them through your folds, giving a teasing circle around your swollen clit, then raised those fingers to your mouth and sucked them clean while your hips rolled upwards in a silent invitation.
Dabi cleared his throat, trying to smother the deep grunt rising from his chest.
Back on video, your swollen pussy lips parted when you spread your legs wider, entrance clenching around nothing, needy little sounds spilling from your throat as you kneaded your breasts, twisting your nipples between your fingers.
The burnt man shifted, thighs pressing together now to ease the sudden ache in his cock. He eased the rhythm of jerking himself, closing his azure eyes briefly to steady his breathing.
Little did Dabi know, Tomura was watching him closely from the other end of the table, scrutinizing the strange twists of Dabi’s expression as if debating whether to snap at him just to drag his attention back to the meeting agenda.
Dabi stared at the screen of his smartphone as your other hand disappeared from the view, only to appear a moment later, holding the ridged glass dildo he’d bought stole you last month: translucent blue, slightly curved to graze your sweet g-spot.
You slicked it along your slit once, twice, then fed the head inside, your eyes fluttering shut. A breathy moan leaked from your parted lips, louder now, raw around the edges.
Dabi’s fingers curled tightly around the head of his cock. He imagined every villain at this table hearing how desperate his girl was, how wet she was at the single notion of him, and the thought made his pulse riot.
You pushed the dildo deeper into your pussy, back arching. Slowly, you started raising and lowering your hips while holding the toy still. Your tits bounced a little with every move, nipples hard and lickable. You pinched one hard, twisting until you gasped, then moved your hips faster. The inner pussy lips wrapped tightly around the dildo, gracefully moving up and down the glass shaft. The wet slaps could be heard between your moans.
Dabi’s dick jerked, precum dampening the inside of his boxers yet again. He forced his expression blank, eyes half-lidded like boredom, while inside his cranium every thought screamed fuck fuck fuck.
You set a ruthless rhythm, hips snapping up to meet the glass invasion. Your free hand shot down, two fingers circling the clit so fast your knuckles blurred. Juices smeared down the creases of your thighs, catching the lamp light like gloss.
Dabi sneered, picturing himself behind you, your hips in his palms while he rammed your cunt raw.
Across the table Twice exhaled cigarette smoke through his nose; the acrid tang drifted over.
Dabi barely registered it. He was too busy tracking the flutter of your stomach, the way your ribs expanded with each ragged inhale. Your moans were climbing - sweet, broken syllables punched out every time you jammed the toy to the hilt. “Dabi,” you sang sweetly, voice syrupy with pure lust.
All of that cute, little sounds you made detonated heat in Dabi’s groin. He squeezed his cock head tightly, and gave the shaft a single stroke. The side of his thumb rubbed the crown of his dick, sending sparks up his spine.
On the screen, your orgasm began building. Thigh muscles quivered, stomach tightening in telltale ripples. You dropped the dildo angle low so the lens captured your hole sucking at the glass, walls clutching, creaming around every ridge. A thick bead of milky juice rolled out of the needy pussy, down the crack of your ass, pooling on the sheet beneath. You were oh so fucking close.
“Bitch,” Dabi growled quietly under his breath, his fist pumping in short, clandestine jerks, the stitched heel of his palm grinding against the underside of his cock with each upward tug. Pleasure coiled hot and urgent at the base, tightening up his sac.
With his name rolling off your tongue like a mantra, you slammed the dildo deep inside your hole one last time and froze, thighs snapping shut around your hand. A raw cry tore from your throat as you came - pussy convulsing, creamy juices bursting around the glass shaft in messy pulses. Your clit visibly flickered under your fingers as you spanked your clit a few times, spasming all over your body at the sensation. “Mmmmm, yes!”
Dabi felt his balls draw up. He imagined that sweet spray coating his own dick while he drove into your spasming heat, imagined the wet slap of your sweet cum against his thighs. His vision tunneled as he gripped his dick tighter, thumb brushing the sensitive underside again and again.
Strings of arousal clung to the glassy dildo as you lifted it to your mouth, and lapped your own taste, eyes flicking to the lens in wicked promise. After licking the toy clean, you spanked your slit with it, throwing your head back and resting it against his pillow when tremors ran through your body - oh, you were so overstimulated!
After catching your breath, you set the toy aside and rolled onto your stomach, arching your back so your ass was also into the frame. “Bring that dick home as soon as possible, baby. I’m so fucking needy. I need you to fuck me.”
Then the clip stopped, thumbnail snapping back to the beginning frame.
Dabi didn’t finish; instead, he pulled his hand free, careful not to smear evidence of arousal across his pants, fastened the fl, and improved the leather belt he wore that day. He discreetly wiped fingers along the inside hem of his pocket, letting the cotton drink faint traces of precum. His cock throbbed, stiff and unsatisfied, pressed against the fly in a way that would be obvious if he stood now. Good thing he didn’t need to speak during that shitty, useless meeting.
Calm as he could manage, Dabi put his phone at the table counter, and folded both arms over his chest. Cool sweat prickled along his hairline. He tasted iron - he’d chewed the inside of his cheek raw.
Across the table, Tomura flicked ash from his cigarette into the tray and let a smirk curl across his face, his red irises locking onto his lieutenant. “You’re flushed, Dabi,” he murmured over the hum of the presentation. “Fever, or just another sleepless night?”
Dabi rolled the tip of his tongue across the small wound inside his cheek, savoring the sting. “Something like that,” he answered briefly. He let the imagination simmer behind his turquoise eyes: the way your juices soaked sheets, the tight clench of your pussy around the glassy toy, the breathy moans of his name.
The meeting would drag another hour, maybe two. He’d sit through every second, hard and aching, carrying your naughty image under a bland villain mask.
He would storm straight to the restroom when the session finally ended, fist himself furiously, and come so hard that his quirk activated. For now, the throb in his confined cock was an exquisite punishment - a proof that his girlfriend’s pleasure, broadcast in pixels, could reduce him to nothing more than a man dizzy with raw sexual tension.
And you knew it, Dabi felt that certainty in his marrow. Somewhere across the city you were sprawled in the afterglow, smirking at the thought of him trapped in this fucking room, dick leaking, powerless to do anything ache with lust.
"a knife? are you flirting with me?" || dabi x gn!reader, mha drabbles, pure fluff, 451 words (◡̀_◡́)ᕤ
obsessed!dabi who genuinely believes he fell in love with you at first sight—or maybe more like first fight—given the way his heart jolted in his chest. there was no other explanation. he had never been so speechless as when you first confronted him, intense glare on your face and fists moving with nothing but pure hatred. he easily dodged the first few attacks, looking at you with pure boredom — until you managed to land a hit. lucky shot, right? wrong.
obsessed!dabi who was on the floor before he knew it, pinned down with your thighs over his legs, forcibly straddling him while holding a sharp dagger to his neck. you're slightly heaving, out of breath from your relentless moves, but your fierce gaze doesn't lessen, continuing to look at him with malicious spite, it was something he's never experienced before and oh... how he loved it.
obsessed!dabi who instead of burning you into smithereens, bursts out into dark laughter, unable to believe that a little thing like you — actually got the best of him. he smirks, leaning closer to the metal, causing a few drops of blood to trickle down his neck, leaving you in complete shock, brows furrowed as you hesitantly pull back, all while he smugly smiles like just he won the damn lottery — and maybe he did.
obsessed!dabi who has pestered you ever since that night, trying to get under your skin with every remark and empty insult, following you around the PLF base like clockwork. you curse at him, try to scare him off, spout harsh words, but that only seems to motivate him even further. and after a while, he starts getting coy, giving you shameless once overs and teasing whistles whenever you flip him off, you can only fight against it for so long... until he makes a particularly stupid joke.
obsessed!dabi who feels his ego skyrocket when you let out a small laugh, rolling your eyes at yet another flirty comment that exits his lips. he sees the way you don't tense at his presence anymore; the way you stare at him for longer than necessary, the way you don't pull away when his hand brushes against your waist — and he revels in it.
obsessed!dabi who loves it when you boss him around—on missions or not—your voice is firm and unwavering, looking at him as if daring him to object, which he never did, because you are by far the most attractive thing he's ever seen. he's stronger, no doubt about it, but you don't seem to care, and neither does he, after all, he may not be a slave to hero society.... but he is to you.
Warnings and Genre : Fluff/ Drabble/ tw: mentioning of Dabi using his quirk on someone
Notes : Why did he have to suffer so much? I love him
Divider by : @/saradika-graphics
Masterlist | Second Masterlist | Third Masterlist
If you’re dating Dabi, you’re not just lucky, you’re the luckiest.
Why, you might ask?
Because not only would he never betray you, he would betray the world for you.
The first time you realize it, is not during something big or dramatic, but rather quiet and almost insignificant.
It's a passing comment from someone who doesn’t know any better.
Someone who laughs a little too loudly, looks at you a little too long, and speaks your name like it’s something he's allowed to voice so casually.
It's someone you still, to this day, don't know if he was a civilian or a fellow villain.
Not that Dabi would give a damn either way.
When it happens, you don’t have time to react, but he does.
He doesn’t move at first, he doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t make a scene. He just watches, head barely tilted, and turquoise eyes faintly lit with something incomprehensible yet terrifying.
_ "Say that again, I dare you." he murmurs, deep voice turning even deeper.
The guy chuckles, oblivious to the hazardous consequences of his foolish behavior, "I was just.."
And he doesn’t get to finish..
Air changes, laughter dies, and heat manifests low and threatening, not enough to burn, but just enough to warn.
Dabi steps forward.. slow, deliberate, and utterly amused.
_ "Careful," he says, voice low, "you’re starting to sound like you’ve got a death wish." and it’s so casual it almost sounds like a joke.
Almost.
The man stumbles back, apology spilling out of his trembling lips in an unintelligible rush, and Dabi watches him for a moment longer, eyes half-lidded, before clicking his tongue.
_ "Pathetic."
And just like that, it ends as quickly as it has begun, with a searing blaze in the same mesmerizing color of his own eyes.
He turns away first, not at all intrigued by the life his power had taken. Like the whole incident had never been worth his time, and the corpse burning to a crisp was only an annoying insect to be squashed under his boot.
But when his hand finds yours, it lingers.. warm, steady, and certain.
You glance up at him, studying the sharp lines of his face, the stitched skin that pulls when he speaks, the bottomless ocean of his eyes that hide a thousand secrets from the world, but not from you, never from you.
_ "You didn’t have to do that," you say softly.
_ "Yeah," he mutters, "I did." and there is no hesitation or doubt.
_ "Why?" you ask, though already knowing the response, and for a moment he just stares at you, baffled, because why would you utter such a question when the answer is clear as day?
Regardless, he replies..
_ "Because," his gaze slips away, "you’re my girl."
It's simple and absolute, but then he adds before you can even react, "you should know by now that I don’t let assholes like him talk to you however they want."
Your pulse stutters and breath hitches for a split second, but you don't let it end there, "and if they do?"
_ "Then they learn." and that amused smirk you so much adore, appears again.. thin, sharp, and promising hell to whoever dares cross that line.
Your hand tightens its hold on his scarred one, and the soft smile finding its way to your lips is a reflection of the warmth spreading through your chest, as if the man walking alongside you hadn't just casually threaten to burn the world for your sake.
And for a moment, for a brief peaceful moment in the chaos that is your lives, the world goes quiet again.
No lingering threats, no watching eyes, just the low hum of a dying lightbulb and the faint echo of a night that has finally settled.
Dabi sits slouched against the wall, one knee drawn up, the other stretched out languidly.
He hasn’t let go of your hand, not since earlier, not since you started walking away from the remaining bones and ashes, not since his fingers closed around yours and never quite loosened, and you notice it in the quiet surrounding you, in the way his grip isn’t tight, but unmistakably there.
Your thumb brushes lightly against his knuckles, almost absentmindedly, but not quite, and he stills.
For a second, you expect him to pull away, to retreat, to pretend it never happened, but he doesn’t.
His fingers shift instead, curling slightly more around yours.
You glance at him, but he’s not looking at you, his gaze is distant, unfocused, yet there’s no edge in him now, no tension in his shoulders, just stillness.
_ "You’re really quiet," you murmur.
_ "So are you." he replies.
His voice is rough as ever, but softer around the edges, like he didn’t bother sharpening it this time.
You lean your head against his shoulder, looking into the distance, and he tenses, but only for a moment.
Then slowly, he exhales, he relaxes, and his shoulder shifts just enough to make room for you, to make sure you're comfortable.
He’s learning, he's trying, and it's all for you..
Time passes in pleasant silence, where the only thing heard is the faint sounds of nocturnal creatures, and the low hum of that same dying lightbulb above.
Then his head tilts, barely noticeably, resting lightly against yours, so light it almost isn’t there.
But his hand tightens just a fraction, letting you know the gesture is intentional.
You don’t move, and neither does he, because this isn’t something he’d ever say out loud, not in words anyway, but in the absence of distance, in the quiet acceptance, and in the way he stays, like an anchor for you alone.
That’s his version of soft.. it's unspoken, unsteady, terrifying, but real.
And somehow, it means much more than it appears to be, because that’s the thing about loving Dabi, it's not gentle, it's not safe, but when he chooses you, even his quiet feels like an unbreakable vow.
CW: exhibitionism, teasing, dabi being stubborn, fingering, stimulation, "public" sex, shigaraki finding it entertaining, female anatomy, she/her used, petnames, they're trying to not get caught, modern au where the lov are roommates
Word Count: 1.8k
Author's Note: hey guys! welcome to the second kinktober post of october! i hope you enjoy reading. ily all sm. leave a like or reblog to show support!
dabi sat on the couch, completely absorbed in the movie playing on the screen. his eyes were glued to the action, barely blinking as the plot unfolded. y/n, however, wasn’t nearly as interested. she leaned into him, feeling the warmth of his body against hers, her mind wandering as the minutes ticked by.
she glanced at dabi, his sharp features bathed in the soft light from the tv. he seemed so engrossed, almost oblivious to her presence, his hand resting lazily on her thigh. smiling to herself, she shifted closer, her lips brushing against his neck in a gentle, teasing kiss.
he hummed from her touch, still focused on the movie, but y/n wasn’t about to give up that easily. she kissed him again, a little slower this time, her breath warm against his skin. dabi’s jaw clenched slightly, but he kept his eyes forward. she smiled to herself knowing exactly what she was doing, and let her lips trail lower, nipping lightly at his collarbone.
"you’re gonna make me miss the best part," he muttered, voice low, though he didn’t sound too convincing.
y/n laughed softly. "like you care," she whispered, her hand sliding up his chest as she continued to kiss him. he finally turned his head toward her, eyes darkening as he shifted his focus from the screen to her. "you’re a distraction, you know that?" he said, though the small smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.
"good," y/n replied, her lips brushing against his again, this time catching his mouth. dabi responded instantly, his hand tightening on her thigh as he kissed her back, any attention on the movie long forgotten.
before long, the movie was just background noise, and their kisses grew more intense. y/n climbed into his lap, the soft hum of the tv forgotten as they lost themselves in each other. dabi’s hands roamed up her sides, pulling her closer as they sank deeper into the couch. "the others will be back soon, you know?"
"mhm, but you started this so don't go rushing now." he muttered against her lips. just as y/n leaned in to kiss him again, they heard the unmistakable sound of a car pulling into the driveway.
y/n froze, her lips barely an inch from his, her breath caught in her throat. "they're back," she whispered, eyes wide.
dabi didn’t seem the least bit concerned. instead, he let out a low chuckle, his hands still firmly on her hips. "yeah, and? we still have a couple of minutes." his lips curled into that familiar, cocky smirk.
y/n tried to sit up, but dabi held her in place, refusing to let her go so easily. "touya—" she started, but he cut her off, raising an eyebrow.
"you really think i'm just gonna stop because of a car?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "let 'em walk in. maybe they'll get some pointers." he shrugged. y/n’s mouth dropped open, a mixture of disbelief and amusement crossing her face. "you’re impossible," she muttered, shaking her head as she tried to read whether or not he was being serious.
he shrugged, clearly unbothered. "what can i say? i’m a man of commitment. we finish what we start." he let himself crack a smile and y/n rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t help but feel a small thrill. "you’re going to get us caught."
"you say that like it’s a bad thing." his smirk only grew wider, his hand sliding up her back as if daring her to keep going. "besides, i doubt they’ll walk in right away. they're probably going to be busy unpacking their precious groceries in the kitchen first."
y/n glanced toward the kitchen that openly connected to the living room, nerves and excitement twisting in her stomach. it only heightened when he unpinned her bottoms. "touya. no." she said, holding his wrist to stop his movements. "yes. you have a problem to fix…that you also caused." he defended, slightly moving his hips and y/n felt the aftermath of their kiss growing between his legs. "later, touya. jokes aside this is actually crazy." she huffed.
he shrugged and gave her a smile. "okay." he said simply. that made y/n feel even worse. such a plain and simple answer with no reluctance at all. he spun her around on his lap, having her now sit between his slightly spread thighs and her back against his chest. the sound of distant footsteps could be heard, and y/n noticed when he reached for the nearby throw-blanket.
he covered both he and y/n's lower half before his hand rested beneath the waistband of her bottoms, completely still. y/n knew that lack of motion wouldn't last for long given his tone that held some malicious intent. "since you want to be distracting, i can do the same."
before y/n could speak, his hands trailed down inside of her bottoms. "we're back!" twice said, entering the livingroom with compress and shigaraki in tow. y/n gave them a nod of acknowledgement while dabi remained silent, eyes focused on the tv. they each took seats around the living room and y/n physically cringed when the unoccupied space beside she and dabi was taken by none other than shigaraki himself.
"what movie you guys watching?" shigaraki asked, pulling his phone out from his pocket. clearly he wasn't interested in it since he shifted his gaze to the brightened screen of the device.
"s-some horror film that just came out a f-few days ago." she managed to say. dabi was trailing his fingers up and down her clothed sex and the sensation was so unbearable. the fact that the other three of their friends were in the room, just a few feet, even inches away form them made her hyper-aware of everything that made contact with her. his fingers trailing her sex, his hardened length pressed against her lower back, the way his lips were just a few centimeters from the shell of her ear.
shigaraki hummed at that and silence fell over them. twice was quietly conversing with compress, the sound of the movie slightly overshadowing the details of it. under the blanket, dabi’s fingers gave up on the teasing motions and instead, shifted the fabric to the side completely before gathering the slick that leaked from her sex. y/n gripped dabi’s forearm, desperately trying to slow his movements, but it was no use. if she fought with anymore effort, curious eyes were bound to figure out what was going on beneath the blanket.
his digits made slow side to side motions and crescent shaped indents were being pressed into dabi's skin by y/n's nails. the tingling pain of these didn't put him off at all. infact, it only drove him more. he wanted to see how much y/n could take given her determination of trying to not let their friends find out just what exactly they were doing. his slowed movements sped up and she bit down on her bottom lip so hard that a metallic taste coated her pallet.
she gripped his wrist tightly and he stopped his movements for just a second, his middle finger tapping against her bud in a slow pattern, each time making her body jolt just the slightest. "do you like this movie, pretty?" he questioned, a singular circular motion was given to her sensitive bud.
she shook her head and he let out a small laugh that was felt against her ear. "want me to change it?" shigaraki questioned as he caught onto a small detail of their conversation. "no, its fine….tomura-" she interrupted herself by masking a whimper with a small sound of her clearing her throat.
dabi’s fingers continued against her and y/n could feel shigaraki's gaze on her. it took quite some time to leave, and dabi let out an amused huff when he did. "you doing okay, angel?" he questioned, fingers now prodding her entrance. they were inserted immediately as she spoke a response, her voice slightly falling into a breathy sigh.
"f-fine. just shut up and wa—watch…the movie."
"so bossy." he muttered, making y/n sink her nails into his arm even further. he let out a soft and drawn out hum at that and y/n figured that it wasn't doing her any good. "fucking masochist.." she muttered underneath her breath. "mhm." he hummed, his prodding fingers speeding up their motions.
she tightened her thighes around his wrist but dabi was still able to keep up the pace. the same pace that was beginning to drive her mad. her chest heaved and her breathing picked up drastically, but she tried to keep down the amplifying sounds. she hated dabi for this. she hated how he couldn’t have just waited til later on in the night when they could be alone, she hated how he would force her to speak at any given chance just to make her stumble over her words with his touch, she hated how despite everything she did, he still had control over her body in a way she couldn't explain, and most of all, she hated how good it made her feel.
how the excitement and chance of risks only made her feel all the more aroused. how the slick that leaked from her sex only continued to dampen the fabric of dabi's pants beneath her. she was beyond needy and dabi knew this. her words told a completely different story than her body language and right now, he planned on entertaining the one that would make this night a bit more fun.
a jump scare appeared on the tv, and y/n let out a small whimper just as it happened. shigaraki's head shot up and he immediately eyes the two sitting next to him. dabi lazily met the gaze of the white haired individual and barley visible smug smile was on his lips. he pulled his fingers from her hole, using her arousal to massage circles against the sensitive bud. dabi blinked away from shigaraki and leaned up to y/n's ear as his motions quickened.
"think you might've blown your cover, angel." he smiled, the grin on his lips only widening when she leaned back into his chest even more, her legs shaking and tightening around dabi's hand. she covered her mouth, the sound of a strained moan being quiet but not quiet enough to go undiscovered by shigaraki.
his gaze lowered at dabi who was now only focused on the tv, suddenly invested in the movie. almost as if he didn't just push y/n over the edge, her climax still coursing through her body as time passed.
"you're sick, dabi." shigaraki's voice was rough, but y/n's was able to make out his words, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. "i'm aware." he smiled, pulling his hand out from y/n's bottoms and the blanket before his middle finger, coated with y/n's slick made contact with his tongue.
y/n sat up properly, steadying her breathing as she was unaware of dabi’s actions behind her. "but doesn't that make you sick as well given the fact that you enjoyed watching?"
dabi’s gazed flickered down to shigaraki's tented lap and he rolled his eyes at him, a glare forming in his gaze. dabi let out a small laugh before standing which forced y/n to stand as well.
synopsis: somewhere between the ding of a cash register, premade soba, a lingering headache, and the smell of bleach—you meet japan’s most wanted. on your shift.
authors note: first touya x reader fic, pls he's so loser bf!! fluff so much fluff sorta soft touya?? word count 1.6k, masterlist link here.
You were a cashier at a run-down grocery store, doing anything you could to make ends meet. The place smelled like bleach and expired meat half the time, and the lights above your register flickered like they were possessed. Nothing really surprised you anymore—You were used to the peculiar customers who wandered in the daily—drifters, the half-sober, the too-loud, the too-quiet. But what did catch you off guard was him.
Japan’s most wanted standing in aisle three, in the saddest excuse of a disguise you’d ever seen—black hoodie pulled too low, black jeans, scuffed sneakers, and sunglasses like that would actually do something. He moved like he had all the time in the world, drifting through the aisles, staring at the premade noodle section like it held the answers to his sins. Ramen, udon, soba. He grabbed a few packs of cold soba—enough for more than just one person—and then made his way to your register.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just plopped the stuff down with a bit more force than necessary. The silence felt loaded. Strained. Your gut twisted a little. You weren’t a pro at this kind of thing, but something screamed at you—that’s him. Dabi. Or well… Touya Todoroki. Endeavor’s kid. The same guy who took over every screen in the country a few weeks back, spilling his father’s sins like gasoline and lighting it on fire.
Truthfully, you didn’t care much for Endeavor. Never did.
You started scanning the items, eyes flicking up just in time to see him reach into his pocket. He pulled out a crumpled wad of cash mixed with loose change. As he fumbled, the sunglasses slipped from his face and clattered to the floor.
Before you could stop yourself, you were moving—around the register, heart in your throat, hand shooting out to retrieve the flimsy black shades. You straightened slowly, back brushing against the edge of the checkout counter, one hand gripping it for support, the other extending the sunglasses to him.
And that’s when he looked up.
White strands of hair fell loose from under his hood, the black dye fading at the ends. His eyes met yours—glacial blue, clear and sharp enough to slice glass. The same eyes you’d watched staring into the nation’s soul, unflinching, as he exposed the man everyone thought was a hero.
You froze. You knew without a doubt. This was Touya Todoroki.
He took the glasses from your hand, fingertips brushing yours. Then his gaze flicked down to your name tag. His voice, low and rough like smoke and gravel rasped, “Thanks, y/n.”
Your breath hitched.
You turned back quickly, grabbing the soba and bagging it in a blur. “Here,” you muttered. “Just take it. It’s on me.”
He raised a brow. “What makes you think I deserve that?”
You hesitated, looking around. “I don’t know. Just… I think you do.”
He clicked his tongue, rocking back on his heels. Then, quieter, “I know you know who I am.”
Your posture stiffened. “No,” you said too fast, too defensively. “You’re just a customer.”
“Sure,” he said through gritted teeth, amused and bitter. “Sure you’re not scared of me.”
You swallowed. “I’m not scared.”
“And how do you know I know who you are?”
He laughed—harsh, cracked, like a smoker too far gone. “Just knew. Saw it in your body language the second I walked up.”
You glanced away. “Look… I don’t care who you are. I was just trying to help.”
He didn’t respond. Just nodded, muttered, “Alright,”
And just like that, he was gone. But not before slipping something into your pocket.
Later, you reached in. Money. He paid.
He started showing up more often after that. You’d see him on the news before your shift, then in the aisles an hour later. And now, even after your shifts, you found him behind the building, near the old crates and dumpsters, thirty feet from where anyone could see.
Tonight, he was lighting a cigarette with a flick of his blue flames. The smoke curled and drifted toward you as you walked up, making you cough.
His head tilted. “Been waitin’ on ya,” he muttered. Then he held the cigarette out. “Want a drag?”
You gave him a look. “You know I don’t smoke.”
He grinned, all teeth. “Thought maybe I could corrupt you.”
You arched a brow. “Haven’t you already?”
His expression shifted. Then, before you could say anything else, he leaned in—kissed you.
It was the first time he ever kissed you.
Messy. Harsh. Smoke and spit and something desperate.
You almost fell back, knees weak, but he caught you. Dragged you down to the ground with him, lips never parting. It was the first time he kissed you. And maybe it was wrong, maybe it was dangerous, but you didn’t care. Not when it was him. Not when you saw past the villain—saw the boy who never got held, only hurt. A boy broken by the hands of a man everyone called a hero.
That was enough to make anyone snap.
And now, here you were, on your knees, his mouth pressed to yours like he was trying to take something from you—maybe comfort, maybe forgiveness, maybe just the illusion of something soft in a world that wasn’t.
And with every encounter—every soba purchase, every lingering glance, every half-joke hiding real pain—you knew your first instinct had been right.
You were falling for Touya.
You still called him Dabi. You didn’t think he was ready for anything else. Most of what he said was sarcastic anyway—a shield made of sharp words and mockery. It was easier to joke about tragedy than confront it.
Finally, he pulled back. Breath ragged. Eyes lowered.
“Now I have,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.
And that’s how you started dating Japan’s most wanted. Except, to you, he wasn’t “wanted.” Not evil. Just a man. Just him—the man you loved. Not the headlines. Not the scars. Just someone hurt, and hurting, and trying.
As the days dragged on, so did the back-alley grocery store dates—shadows and neon signs, muddy combat boots and scuffed sneakers brushing under dim light. Those nights bled into mornings spent sprawled across your bed in your too-cozy apartment.
He's there now. Face buried in the warm space where your chest melts into your stomach. His boots—caked in mud and ash and whatever else followed him home—lay abandoned by the door, one toppled over, the other still upright like it couldn’t decide whether it was staying or leaving.
Your flower-shaped lamp glows golden in the corner, petals casting soft shapes across the walls. Sunlight peeks in through slatted blinds, slicing stripes across his exposed skin, from his loose white shirt slipping off his shoulder. His jacket's somewhere—maybe draped over your kitchen chair, maybe forgotten in the hallway.
The TV hums with some idle sitcom, volume low. Just white noise to quiet the thoughts inside his head.
He’s bathed in that rose-pink glow, strands of white hair falling messy across your skin, tickling you when he shifts. He smells like smoke and faint lavender, like the detergent you use and the night air you kissed into his hoodie when he left last. He looks beautiful like this. Soft. Free.
But you know he’s not. You know he won’t be—not until he ends the war with his father, the one he’s fought for years in silence and screams. But you pretend. And maybe, in some small aching way, so does he.
He shifts again, lazily, one hand sliding beneath your shirt, fingertips grazing your skin—that warmth grounds him, makes his heart remember how to beat whole.
Then he looks up. Blue irises like shattered glass and sea glass and sky all tangled in one glance. He blinks slowly, like he’s surfacing from a dream. But there’s a weight behind his gaze. You feel it before he speaks. Something's been gnawing at him—clawing inside his chest, waiting for the quiet to be spilled into.
He only ever bares it like this: nose tucked into your stomach. Cheek resting against your softness. Voice hushed, truths spilling in murmurs, never louder than your breath.
He’s told you everything this way. How he got here. What he plans to do. How the man who made him never truly fathered him. How the name everyone fears was never his choice. You know his real name. Though he’s never given you permission to use it. Not yet.
It’s sacred. A wound. A reminder.
But now, he stirs, something unfamiliar tightening in his shoulders—he’s nervous. This man—this villain who burns cities, who bathes in blood and rage—he’s nervous. And somehow, it’s the most endearing thing you’ve ever seen.
“Y/n…” His voice is quiet, rasping into your skin, a vibration more than a sound.
You hum, hand threading through his icy locks, gentle.
“Want you to call me Touya.”
You still. Eyes blinking open, lips parted but frozen. “I… I thought— I mean, isn’t that—doesn’t it hurt to hear that name?”
He moves before you finish. Rising over you now, shifting until one leg slots between your thighs, the other bracing beside you. You’re caged in, breath caught.
He’s staring. Blue eyes boring into your soul like they’ll find their place and stay there.
“No,” he says simply, but the word is heavy.
He leans in, pressing into the crook of your neck—his favorite place to hide when the world gets too loud.
“Not when it comes to you,” he murmurs, softer now. “Wanna hear you say it. If you say it, then it’s not tied to them. It’s just… me.” He pauses. Breath hitches. “If the girl I love says it… then I won’t hate it anymore.”
Touya is all bite and burn in the daylight—sarcastic kisses and half-truths wrapped in smoke. But here—when he's wrapped in you, pressed skin to skin—he lets it all fall away.
Here, he bares his teeth—rotten and real and trembling.
I can honestly see touya being romantic (but not super conventionally though) once he actually gives himself to you, and that wouldn’t be until a post canon scenario where he is able to heal (and you two had that connection before hand). It’ll take a while because of how much he’s been hurt, not because he doesn’t have much love to give because it’s the exact opposite…he has so so much love to give. It’s just the fact that when he feels, he feels too strongly, so he has a history of simply not dealing with it, just completely avoiding it. In a situation where he can heal, he’d be able to learn that it’s okay…and that he won’t be met with betrayal. In canon he doesn’t let himself rlly open up to the LOV bc of his suicide mission + awareness of his feelings with attachment (we love a self-aware king), this is also why he doesn’t even let himself truly open to his family in the very last chapters too, he doesn’t feel like there’s a point and its. depressing. but he’s also seen crying because he’s such a strong feeler :(
Now once he’s able to heal, I think he’d be pretty action and acts of service based, he’d also try to make himself helpful…and would seek validation in that. I can also see him be really fun and smart with plans for special occasions, considering dabis dance lmao. I’d want him to be met with understanding, patience, and unconditional love—something he should have experienced. Oh and also, you can pry clingy postcanon touya out of my cold dead hands
IGNITE THE HEAT [dabi / todoroki touya x f!reader]
thinking about dabi riling you up and giving you all of him for hours, just to stop and grin at you from above seconds before you can release that knot in your stomach. your cheeks are burning from tears and your aching cunt is clenching around nothing, laying in the wet patch trembling and desperate. his hands grabbing your waist and hips down, grounding you into the soaked matress as his mouth stretches into a grin so wide, the metal staples start leaking blood.
“f-fuck, dabi!” you whimper as your cheeks stain with more of the salty liquid. your voice is strained and too weak, your throat is dry from all the restless vocal show you gave him. “why? why are y’ doing this?” it only fuels his desire. feeling a rush of primal satisfaction, knowing that he was the cause of your pleasure and pain, the reason for your weakened state.
“shh, doll.” he presses his lips against your neck, his voice a low rumble. his tongue darting out to flick against the shell of your ear. “you’re doin’ so well f’ me. so fucking good, doll, letting me break you like this.”
dabi’s touch is gentle, his fingers wiping the tears from your cheeks with a tenderness that seemed almost uncharacteristic of him. “don’t cry now, doll. just a little longer, i promise. you can hold on a little more f’ me, can’t you?” you can’t help but nod in silence, eyes pleading at him through wet lashes and heavy lids.
“that’s a good girl.” he murmurs, voice low and possessive. your hands grip onto the sheets again as your voice breaks, feeling him deep inside your sensitive walls.
despite his soft, comforting words, there was a hint of mischief in his eyes, a sly smirk playing at the corners of his lips. you couldn’t catch it when your body ached with need, your mind a haze of desire and frustration. it was as if he knew something you didn't, as if he was planning to keep playing with you, even after he promised to give you the release you so desperately craved.
the night went on, his hands continued to explore your body, touching, caressing, teasing. but instead of bringing you closer to the edge of release, he kept you balanced on that precarious precipice, never pushing you over the edge. he smugly whispered his “just a little longer”’s, kept telling you how good you were being, how patient you were, how much he loved the sound you made when you were on the edge of release, to never give you the relief of it for another couple of hours.
cw: fem reader, a mix of texts and writing, extremely ooc, this is just to fuel my dabi hyperfixation rn
synopsis: For some reason Dabi doesn’t mind you… partially.
After getting back from the store you went and gave everyone the stuff they asked for. After giving everyone else their items you knocked on Dabi’s door, hearing him grumble as he walked towards the door.
Once it opened up you held out the box of dye, “I tried to get the least unprofessional looking one possible.” You watched as he glanced at the box, “yea whatever.” He wordlessly took the box from your hands and closed the door to his bedroom.
Later that night you were getting ready to finally go to sleep, already in some baggy sweatpants and an oversized hoodie you’ve had for years. Finally getting comfortable you groaned as you randomly had to go to the bathroom.
You silently got out of bed and slid on your cheap slippers, refusing to walk around the base barefoot knowing it was the cleanest place. Walking out of your bedroom, making sure to close your bedroom door you walked towards the bathroom.
Not registering the sound of water running as you pushed open the bathroom door, immediately being met with the sight of Dabi leaning over the side of the bathtub and hosing off his hair with the faucet. He seemed to not notice you yet, but you noticed him.
Noticed the fact that he was shirtless, which is something you have never seen. “Hi.” You spoke out and he immediately snapped up and turned towards you, stupid move as his hair fell into his eyes and immediately got water in his eyes which was mixed with hair dye.
He turned back towards the tub and leaned over again, “fucking christ.” He stayed silent for a little longer as he washed out his eyes. You stayed in the doorway, turning around to make sure no one else was awake.
“What do you want?” You hummed, “need to piss… can I help?” He groaned and rubbed at his eyes. “No and cant you just wait?” You hummed, “either let me help or im gonna go piss while you’re in here.” An immediate smile stretched on your face knowing he’d have to let you help.
“Fucking weirdo.. whatever, your hands are gonna get stained.” You shrugged and stepped into the bathroom, closing the door and walked closer to the tub. “Soo like.. do I just shampoo it?” He stayed silent for a little before sighing, “yes.”
You turned and grabbed his shampoo, knowing which one it was cause he almost murdered twice for using his soap. You made sure to roll up the sleeves on your hoodie before putting the soap in the palm of your hand.
You lathered the soap in between your hands for a few seconds before moving your legs on either side of his torso and leaning over, running your hands through his hair.
For the next few minutes the only sounds that filled the bathroom was the running water and the sound of your hands running through his hair.
The both of you are quiet are you help him wash your hair, now your sat on the closed toilet as he stand in front of the mirror drying his hair. He immediately put his shirt back on one you were done, but you managed to catch a glimpse of the slight abs he had.
You watched him as he dryed his hair, “can I know your natural color now?” He glanced over at you before looking back in the mirror, poking around at his hair presumably making sure he didn’t miss any spots. He grumbled in… satisfaction maybe?
“White.” Immediately you sat up, “really?” He didn’t respond, and you tried to picture him with white hair, pinching your brows together and shaking your head. “The black is better, fits your whole vibe you got going on.” He huffed out what seemed to be a laugh but you couldn’t tell.
