as soon as you hear you your window open, you sigh. not out of fear, or out even surprise. its out of annoyance.
it’s well known knowledge that dabi is many things: a danger, a criminal, and a sorry excuse for a boyfriend who shows up at your window at least once a month.
“hey, dollface.” he grins, only flashing his teeth to piss you off. “miss me?”
you really should fix that lock.
but you don’t have the time. so you sigh, and point to the fridge. “theres soba. just wash your fucking dishes after.”
and he will, but he’ll probably leave a single, unwashed chopstick in your sink as a small act of protest. and because it seems like someone hired him to annoy you.
after his meal, he finds you in the bedroom, folding laundry. in a few quick strides he’s behind you, arms wrapped around your stomach, transferring his already high body heat to you. initially you roll your eyes, knowing that icing him out is the best way to put out a fire.
then you feel his chest press up against your back, and you mentally curse.
“you got skinnier.” you state, noting the lessening muscle beneath his worn in shirt. he laughs, knowing you’re right but bring far too immature to willingly admit it.
“fuck, well, you try keeping meat on your bones while you’re on the run.”
and thats the part that frustrates you the most. knowing he’s on the run constantly, without any shred of stability or routine. though you’d wish he’d use your front door as to not behest any concerned neighbours, you know that climbing in through window is his way of letting you know he’s alive. because most days, you aren’t sure.
he notices you still and feels something like regret. his stomach is full of food, food you made, and he can be grateful for that. even villains enjoy home cooked meals.
like he fulls the worry creep from your skin to his, he sighs, arms tightening from behind you.
“i’m fine.” he says, begrudgingly emphasizing that last word. he doesn’t care to hide his attitude. he knows you don’t care, either.
a beat passes, before you speak up. “…saw your wanted poster the other day.”
he knows you can’t see him, but a smile escapes. “yeah? they get my good side?”
“none of your sides are good.”
“well excuse me, doll.”
you turn around in his arms, and see a part of him he tries to keep buried. a part that is maybe worth keeping around, though he rips it away from you along with your groceries when he jumps back out that window.
like you’re humouring that part of him, testing if it’ll respond, you ask an age old question- one you’ve almost stopped caring about because you know the answer too well: “are you finally gonna give up crime for me?”
its been the focal point of many past arguments, though you know its futile. he’s too stubborn. too hurt
and the asshole pretends to actually think about it. “nah.”
you nearly laugh, mentally plotting to drag his body to the dumpster while he sleeps. but speaking of sleeping: “are you gonna spend the night?”
this one he doesn’t have to think about. “of course. where else am i gonna hide out?”
he’s quick to make the most of his temporary refuge, knowing he probably has owes you for what you’re doing. housing a fugitive is a serious offence, after all.
luckily for you, he knows what he’s doing. though that can be hard to realize, since he’s spent the last 5 minutes barely allowing the tip of his cock to enter you. he has you on your hands and knees, stationed behind you as he smokes a cigarette. somehow, the current predicament doesn’t bother him. or it does, and he just happens to have the willpower of a god.
blue eyes pierce your form, watching your pretty hands grip the sheets as he hands you the bare minimum- a slow push of his hips as your needy fluids drip down your thighs. he finishes his smoke, tossing it onto the ashtray before gripping your hips with both hands.
“i hate you.” you half moan, half groan. the groan tells him that you’re frustrated with his slow pace. the moan tells him you’re willing to wait as long as he gives it to you.
he smiles, savouring the moment. “you’re so cute, baby. don’t worry. i hear ya.”
he then grips your hips tight, slamming you down onto his cock while his pace picks up so fast your head spins. you barely have the time to release a surprised gasp as he begins thrusting in and out of you like its the last time.
he knows that if he opens his mouth to swear or even moan, he’ll risk ripping the staples around his jaw. its why he brings his hand down on your thigh hard when he feels your sweet pussy clench around him, tempting him to unclench his teeth and get vocal. that plan backfires, however, as the pain only makes you tighten more.
the slapping sound of skin against skin only feeds his obnoxious ego, knowing he has you where he wants you. every now and then, he makes sure to slow down, pulling out of you before slamming all the way back in. he’s not stopping you know each of his veins by heart. by now, you probably do.
“still hate me?” he taunts, giving you another sharp thrust to prove a point. he’s not actually trying to make you angry, though he knows that the last time you were, you rode him until he was fucked clean out.
“i- OH FUCK!” you cry, feeling his hand reach down to rub circles on your clit. the breathless laugh that leaves his lips is not lost on you as he takes in the incoherence of your words.
“thats right.” he continues to thrust. “let me feel that pretty pussy, doll. gonna let me cum in this sweet cunt? hm?”
he leans down until his chest is pressed up against your back, letting him talk into your ear. some lost muscle mass is less of a concern here, since his stamina is still exceptional. his pace never falters, pounding into you hard and passionately.
“do it.” you lift your head from the pillow. he grins at your command, but still attempts to get some shots in.
“say please.”
“touya todoroki, i swear to god i’ll turn your ass in.”
he laughs, gifting you with another hard thrust. he’d drag it on if he didn’t think you were serious.
“so demanding.” he slaps you again. “you know i’m gonna fill you up regardless, doll.”
and he delivers on that promise, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside of you, breathlessly smirking at the scream that escapes your lips. between the climbing in through your window and the loud, desperate cries, your neighbours probably assume something horrible happened.
he continues to rub your clit, still continuing your pleasure, still determined to make you cum. twice more, if he had anything to do with it.
maybe you aren’t in a rush to fix the lock, after all.
Summary: Someone in the League of Villains has been drugging you and doing things to you, and you were going to find out who
Word Count: 6.5k
Rating: X 18+
Warnings: Dark fic, smut, noncon, dubcon, masochism, sadism, drugging, mentions of exhibitionism/vouyerism
Minors DNI
There was a cockroach on your bedroom floor.
Your bedroom that was technically a small storage room with only a small futon and a lamp.
It was staring at you.
So you stared back, as your tired eyes tried to adjust to the blurry cockroach that sat no more than five inches from your face as you lay in bed.
You felt like you were hit by a truck.
The cockroach glowed in the sunlight that filtered into the room… you were lucky enough to end up with a window at least. Even if the moonlight never did reach far enough into the far corner of the room, leaving your imagination to run rampant in the middle of the night as to what lay within those shadows.
Though, you don’t think your imagination held a light to your reality now.
The room was spinning, you had to keep adjusting your eyes to the disgusting insect in front of you.
You pulled your bedsheet back ever so slightly, your arm broke through the cocoon of blankets you had wrapped yourself in. Slowly you reached your arm out, pointer finger outstretched, and neared the bug.
You touched it.
Almost immediately the fucking thing scurried, flipped, and chirped over and over again, running rampant all over the floor. Until after what would be an angonizingly long two minutes for the insect, it died.
Each organ shut down one by one, its little body physically unable to function with the amount of pain a single stroke of your finger caused it.
You pulled your arm back into your cocoon and you stared at the dead cockroach.
You don’t remember taking off your gloves last night. That went for the hoodie you always wore to bed… that went for your pants… that went for your underwear.
You also don’t remember drinking anything last night.
But you were hungover.
Your head wouldn’t stop spinning, you felt like you were going to throw up, and everything just fucking hurt. But the general soreness from the hangover didn’t overshadow the burning, throbbing pain that came from between your legs.
Which meant it had happened again.
You felt your eyes watering, burning tears stinging at your tear ducts.
The first time you tried to chalk it up to falling into bad habits again.
Getting black out drunk was no stranger to you. It had always been easier to turn to the bottle than learn how to control your quirk. It dulled your senses, lessened the harm you could inflict, made you forget what it was to be an outcast of society.
It was safer for everyone that way.
But ever since the broker found you, selling you sweet visions of the future. A future you could help fight for by teaming up with the League of Villains. You had fallen hook, line, and sinker. You quit your vices.
But even if you had decided to drink the night away, that didn’t explain the blood and what you could only assume was dried cum that caked the inside of your thighs.
It was even on your face and in your hair.
That’s what had sent you reeling.
No man, woman, animal, or insect could touch you without immediately doubling over to writhe in pain.
So who the fuck managed to put their cock in you.
You had been so caught up in the how that you never stopped to think about the who until now.
You didn’t want to think of the only logical explanation.
One of your comrades was drugging you and raping you in the middle of the night and now that it’s happened twice, there’s no denying it. No more denying what was clearly in front of you no matter how fucking insane or impossible it should have been.
A choked sob clawed at your dry throat.
Joining this ragtag team of villains was the only thing that ever gave you a sense of purpose in your waste of a life.
You had nothing.
A father that blamed you for your mother’s death. Telling you that all the unending pain you caused her was the reason she put that gun in her mouth. Out on the streets by fifteen, left to mug people with your quirk just to get by. Getting caught by heroes left and right left you with a criminal record. Alcohol had been your only sense of comfort.
You couldn’t leave the League. You can’t go back to that life.
You don’t know how long you laid in bed covered in those dried fluids and waiting for the world to stop spinning, all you knew was that the sun was setting by the time you forced yourself up and your bladder was fucking killing you.
You extracted your naked body from your cocoon, side stepping the dead roach to gather your clothes from last night that were scattered everywhere.
You pulled your thick black hoodie over your head and your black sweatpants up, hiding the blood and cum so that you could properly take care of it in the bathroom.
You put your gloves on and pulled your hood up and left the room.
~
“She’s alive! No she isn’t!” Was the first thing that greeted you when you had left the bathroom.
”Hey Twice,” you mumbled, trudging past him and to the bar. You sat down.
Sitting hurt.
You barely looked around the room. You didn’t have to see to know that the entirety of the League was hanging out in that bar. These days it seemed you all were just sitting on your asses and twiddling your thumbs, waiting for the opportunity to make a move.
”Would you like a drink?”
You looked up tiredly to Kurogiri who stood behind the bar and shook your head, the amount of sugar in the mocktail you had Kurogiri make for you sometimes would probably make your pounding headache worse, “Water’s fine.”
You folded your arms on the bar counter and buried your face into them.
You didn’t want to be here with any of them right now but going back to your bedroom with those disgusting stains all over your futon also made you sick.
Either way you were trapped.
You didn’t mind the idle chatter from the others though. You could hear Mr. Compress and Spinner talking behind you in the booth. Twice was on the floor with Toga and from the sounds of it was playing around with his quirk and random items from the bar. Kurogiri talked to Shigaraki to your right of the counter and to your left was a normally brooding Dabi.
One of them had raped you.
You heard a ‘clink’ next to your folded arms, and found Kurogiri placing your water in front of you.
”Thanks,” you mumbled, grasping and raising the glass to your dry lips.
You gulped down the water quickly, draining the glass. You were so, extremely dehydrated.
Placing your glass down you looked to the side, only to find Shigaraki staring at you from behind ‘Father’s’ hand.
Shigaraki always fucking stared.
’The fucking virgin just wants to fuck you. Probably wants to see how long he’d last before you make his dick fall off’
That’s what Dabi had told you after watching you shift uncomfortably in your seat under his unwavering gaze your first night there.
You couldn’t deny he was suspect number 1 on your list.
You pulled the drawstrings of your hood, putting your head back down.
”Where were you this morning. We had a meeting.”
Fuck— now he was talking to you.
”I had a rough morning,” is what you replied with, words muffled by the fabric of your hoodie.
Your heart beat picked up, beginning to hammer in your ribcage as you heard him stand up.
He was moving closer, sitting himself in the seat next to yours.
He had said nothing for a few long beats and the uncomfortable proximity of his body to yours made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.
”Someone was in your room last night.”
It felt like the air was knocked out of you.
You slowly peered up at him through your hood, finding Shigaraki watching in sick satisfaction as if he just caught you red handed.
The accusation hung heavily in the air as you tried to find the words. Was he self admitting? Or did he see something? Did he know who it was?
But he continued before you could respond.
”You told us no one could touch you without your quirk activating but you’re fucking all night and missing meetings in the morning. You lied to us.”
“No—“ you blurted, perhaps slightly too loud. You leaned in closer, “I—I don’t— it’s not my fault,” you panicked, “I don’t know what’s happening— I would never lie to you about something like that, please. The League is all I have.”
He eyed you and the tears that brimmed in your eyes. His scrutinizing gaze unwavering from your face as he decided whether or not to believe your words.
“Fine,” he muttered.
”Do… do you know who it was?” You asked softly, still not completely sure it still wasn’t him to begin with, but if it wasn’t and he did know…
”You don’t know?” He asked, suddenly starting to scratch at his neck.
”No.” you replied, quickly wiping a tear that fell.
He was about to say something when someone cut in.
”Would you just leave the crybaby alone.”
Dabi.
“I’m not a crybaby,” you muttered, finally leaning away from Shigaraki, barely sparing Dabi a glance.
Shigaraki started scratching with his other hand now, which meant Kurogiri was near, ready to talk him down from whatever ledge he was currently walking on.
”Yeah, sure,” he remarked sarcastically.
You should just go back to your room. You don’t think you can handle talking to someone else that could possibly be violating you.
Unlike Shigaraki, Dabi barely spared you a glance and rarely talked to you. And although he seemed to be more mentally there than some of your other teammates, you wouldn’t put it past him to hurt you.
He still had a cock after all.
Kurogiri refilled your glass.
”Thanks,” you muttered again, taking a sip.
This was too much. Too suffocating. You needed to be alone even if that meant seeing those stains on your bed.
You stood back up, taking your water with you.
”I’m going back to bed.”
With that, you left the room ignoring the stares and the ‘boos’ that followed after you from Toga for leaving so early.
You’d work with them but for now, they couldn’t be your friends.
Not until you found out which of those fuckers had touched you.
-
You isolated yourself after that.
You went through the motions. You did what you were supposed to. You did the quirk training Shigaraki’s master required of you. You went to the meetings. You tried finding new recruits now and then.
But you stopped hanging out with the others and you only spoke to them if it had to do with business with the League.
Toga and Twice seemed to be the most broken up about it, you had been the closest with those two prior to everything.
But the more you were left with your own thoughts the more everyone became a suspect.
Even Toga. She was a shapeshifter and even if it was unlikely, the fact that she even had the ability to transform into the others set you on edge.
And what if Twice was making clones. You knew he didn’t make clones of himself but what if he made that one exception. Or what if he made a clone of one of the others without them knowing and the clone was the one that raped you and Twice killed it after so not even a real person attacked you and you’re just losing your mind in front of everyone and they have no clue as to why-
‘What if, What if, What if’
You were losing your fucking mind.
You weren’t really even sleeping at night, three hours at most. You were too scared someone was going to sneak in. Whoever it was was clearly somewhat resistant to your quirk and your only line of defense you ever relied on was useless.
But you also refused to leave. You had run from every one of your problems your entire life. You weren’t about to do that here. You needed this— a purpose for your life. Hope for a better future.
You needed a plan.
You needed to figure out who was hurting you. How they were drugging you. How they were touching you.
You had just as much of a right to be here as the rest of them and you weren’t going to be trapped in fear.
You just needed a plan.
~
Dabi sat at the end of the bar, off in his own little world, away from the others and their bonding. Away from their talks about nothing that wouldn’t matter in the end anyway.
It had been another fucking useless day, just a bunch of “villains” sitting around and hanging out.
His own efforts have proven fruitless, everyone out there was trash and finding new recruits was becoming harder and harder to find with each day.
Cyan eyes glanced at the group, some holding careless smiles and laughing, others brooding in their own little minds as well.
They were all there except you.
You hadn’t around them much these days but slowly and surely you had been coming out of your room more and more again.
It seemed like you were starting to let your guard down again.
But right now you were busy in that old warehouse the League found for you to quirk train.
Your training in particular was a cruel affair that he’s had the privilege of sitting in on once or twice.
It was more torture than anything else. Trying to see just how much pain you could inflict on unwitting strangers that had been swept off the streets for that reason and that reason alone.
He couldn’t be sure if you enjoyed it or not. Your face always passive and indecipherable in those moments. But you’d do it anyway. You did whatever ‘ol crusty and his master asked of you.
It pissed him off how willingly you followed after that fucking virgin.
It also pissed him off seeing how much Shigaraki enjoyed that.
Dabi sighed, raising his glass to his lips and taking a swig of the drink.
You’d be back any minute now and you’d be tired, exhausted even.
Maybe you’d want to have a quick drink with the others before heading to bed.
His jaw tensed at the thought and he drained the rest of his glass.
Or maybe you’d go straight to hiding in your room again. Barely sparing a glance or a few words with anyone.
Fuck.
He may have overdone it last time.
But the sight of you beneath him, his hands spreading your thighs wide open, watching his cock thrusting in and out of your tight little cunt— each barbell pierced into his cock disappearing and reappearing one by one while you babbled whatever came to your inebriated mind, tits jolting with every thrust— it was too much. And Fuck— the way it hurt, every nerve ending a live fucking wire—
”Hey guys,” you mumbled tiredly.
He didn’t even hear the door open.
The others greeted you as he watched you approach them in his peripherals. Some greetings more animated than others, in Toga’s and Twice’s case specifically.
”How was quirk training!?” Toga asked with a toothy grin.
”Fine,” you mumbled, taking a seat at the bar next to Compress.
”Would you like a drink?” Kurogiri asked per routine.
”Yeah, surprise me. Just no alcohol,” you nodded, making Toga cheer, happy to see you spending time with them again. “Don’t get too excited. ‘M not staying up for long, I have more quirk training tomorrow morning so I’m going to bed after this one.”
”Aw boo—,” she grumbled. “No fun.”
”Hey, how’s the gun feel by the way?” Spinner asked.
”Still getting the hang of it, but it feels good. Thanks again.”
”Yeah, no problem.”
The conversation shifted as Twice started telling stories of his more adventurous exploits when he was younger. And there was Shigaraki eye fucking you again.
Dabi watched from the corner of his eye as Kurogiri made your drink.
Weeks had passed since that last time he visited you. Kurogiri had made you only four drinks since then.
And Dabi watched patiently as he poured in each ingredient.
But it was tonight that he used the pineapple juice.
You were the only one in the League that drank the pineapple juice.
He watched him place the glass down in front of you.
He watched you take a sip.
A grin pulled on the corners of his mouth.
From here on out all he needed to do was wait. And Dabi was nothing if not patient. He had to wait for you to finish the drink, wait to hear you tell everyone you were tired and going to bed, and finally wait as each and every member of the League turned in for the night.
Usually by the time he could sneak into your room you were peacefully asleep. Never expecting Dabi to rouse you from your sleep, surprise taking your features every time.
Tonight was no different.
Just like clockwork you were the first to retreat to your room for the night… but not before draining your glass.
Fuck— he was getting excited.
One by one, each of his comrades decided to call it a night.
First Shigaraki and Kurogiri, then Compress, then Toga, Twice, Spinner…
And that made one.
Dabi cleared his throat, choking back the excited giggle that threatened to escape and climbed to his feet.
It had been too fucking long since he’s been able to indulge like this. With not much else to do these days he had been left with his own imagination and hand for too long.
Like a moth to a flame he found himself at your door, silently pushing it open and slipping inside.
His eyes nearly glowed in the dimly lit room as they landed on your curled up figure, laid peacefully on your futon, fast asleep.
Moonlight was the only thing to illuminate the room.
His cock throbbed, it was painfully hard as it had been for almost an hour now, precum smearing his boxers no doubt.
He palmed himself through his pants as he walked towards your peaceful form, pretty face becoming clearer the closer he got and the more his eyes adjusted to the lighting.
Unceremoniously, he collapsed to the floor, sitting down in front of you, no more than five inches from you. He watched your chest rise and fall with each of your breaths.
Carefully, he picked up a lock of hair and tugged.
You stirred but were far too drugged to wake up from the action.
He dropped the lock, fingertips now reaching for your face— your cheekbone, gently brushing them along your warm skin.
His breath hitched, little electrical shocks started in his fingers and danced up the length of his arm.
”Fuck, got my fucking cock throbbing, crybaby” he panted huskily, “Time to open those pretty eyes of yours now,” he said, giving your shoulder a shake.
“Hmm,” you whined.
”Wake up,” he said again, a harder shake this time.
You blinked your eyes open just slightly, before shutting them again.
You gave a confused hum, “Dabi?” You mumbled.
”That’s right crybaby.”
”What’re—why,” you slurred together.
He pushed your shoulder back— you were so pliant that he was able to effortlessly maneuver you onto your back.
You continued to mumble, trying to make sense in your drug addled mind as to why Dabi was in your room. All the while he was climbing onto the mattress and spreading your thighs as he settled between them. He tugged you down slightly, hooking your legs over his hips and pressing his clothed cock against you.
”Miss me crybaby? I’ve sure missed you,” he grinned, grabbing your gloved hand in his own and guiding it towards the tent in his pants, “See.” He exhaled breathily, using your hand to grasp his cock.
You tried opening your eyes again, waking up a bit more.
”Wha’s happenin’” you murmured, fingers wiggling in his hold as you tried shifting beneath him.
He only hummed, saying nothing as he lifted your hand up. He grasped the middle finger of your glove and pulled.
And just like every other time, your eyes shot open.
”No,” you whined.
”Yes,” he hissed back, pulling your glove completely off and discarding it to the side.
”Can’t touch,” you pulled your hand back and he let you cradle it to your chest. Instead shrugging his jacket off and pulling his shirt off before tossing them with your glove.
”Yes you can,” he grabbed your wrist, placing your hand on his abdomen.
Specifically on the deep purple scars.
Pain radiated from the surface of skin you touched, deep into the tissue. A shockwave of hurt burst from the center of his body, outwards.
His head fell back as a guttural groan clawed its way from his throat.
He ground his cock into you as wave after wave of pain wracked his body.
It was then that your sobs reached his ears.
He dropped your hand but the pain lingered blissfully, though it was dull.
“Fuck.”
The first touch was always the best.
He grinned as he gazed at your tear stricken face.
”Let’s get you out of this,” he said, tugging your hoodie up.
You struggled but were too weak to stop him, every muscle in your body relaxed from the drugs.
You babbled nonsense, he didn’t even bother to try to make sense of what you were saying, just like every time before. Besides, the blood rushing in his ears was distracting anyway.
You had no bra on, making his fingers move to the button of your jeans, fumbling with it as he eyed your tits heaving up and down with each of your breaths. He finally yanked them off your legs, along with your panties.
“Why are— does it hurt?” You continued to mumble, “How.”
“Hah—“ A laugh escaped Dabi. Tonight you seemed more concerned about hurting him rather than him stripping you down naked and getting ready to fuck you. “Wanna remember how good I can make you feel?” He asked, fingers now finding your wet cunt, stroking between your folds. That familiar, irresistible pain resumed in his hand as he pet you.
You gasped and wriggled, trying to move up the bed and get away, but the new grip on your hip prevented you from doing so.
Dabi’s head was reeling, pain and pleasure clouded his mind.
You were the only fucking girl that set his nerves ablaze in such a way. If it wasn’t for his vengeance set in a different, higher place he thinks he would never leave the bedroom with you.
Two fingers pressed into your cunt and slid in, making you squeal.
”Dabi no—“ you sobbed, continuing to wriggle in vain. “Why—“
“Shh,” he hushed, “Don’t think, just feel,” his thumb found your clit and rubbed tight little circles into it.
”Stop— I never— I’mma virgin.“
He barked out another laugh.
”You haven’t been a virgin for over a month now crybaby.”
You whimpered and cried, turning your head into your pillow as your voice became higher and higher pitched the longer this went on.
His free hand stroked your body, feeling the curve of your hips and the dip in your waist before gripping your breast. He then dived for the other, latching his lips around your nipple, pain sparking in his lips and tongue and the parts of his chest that brushed against you.
He continued to suck and tug on your nipples as his other hand continued to work you between your legs.
”Why, why, why—“ you cried, “Dabi why.”
”Because you’re mine you fucking idiot— now cum already.” He growled against your breast.
Your back arched as if his voice held any actual authority, and you came. Tears streaking your face with each spasm of your cunt.
When you came back down to earth you were a shivering, sniveling mess.
”See,” he sighed, “That wasn’t so bad now, was it?”
You sniffled, keeping your eyes squeezed shut.
”None of that,” he pulled the hand from between your legs and cupped your face, fingers digging into your cheeks as he smeared your fluids against your face. “No pretending you’re somewhere else. Open your eyes.” You blinked them open slowly, “Good.” He hummed, smacking your cheek lightly and sitting back up.
The pain you inflicted had finally turned into a duller thrum throughout his body.
Meaning he had to fuck you now for his next fix.
He sucked your sticky wetness from his fingers before undoing his belt then his jeans.
He pulled his cock out, the feeling of it brushing against you making you inch away.
”See that baby?” He grunted, tilting his head back as he stroked his cock and cupped his balls, “You’ve got me so fucking pent up. Makin’ me wait almost an entire month.” He looked back down to you, eyeing you up like an animal. “Ready for my cock crybaby~” he taunted.
The words had fresh tears spilling down your cheeks.
”I’ll take that as a yes.”
He tugged you down by the hips, cock nestling between your folds. He gasped out and jolted at the sensation in his cock.
There was no separation of the pain and pleasure you inflicted on him. It was one. Indivisible.
And so much better than anyone else could ever offer.
He gripped his cock and lined it up at your entrance, heart beating rapidly against his ribcage.
His breathing came out hard and laborious, chest rising and falling dramatically as he psyched himself up to push into you.
That initial thrust would have him cumming. It did every time.
Fingers bit into your hips.
“1…” he growled, “2…” he shut his eyes.
”3.” Said the voice behind his ear.
Dabi’s eyes snapped open in time to see the bullet lodge itself between your eyes.
Your dead body turned to sludge, melting beneath him.
His ears rang as the unmistakable feel of a barrel of a gun pressed itself against the back of his head.
You held the gun, standing over Dabi’s kneeling figure.
As the ringing died in both yours and Dabi’s ears, the deafening silence became louder.
Bile crawled up the back of your throat as you looked over his shoulder.
His cock was still hard.
You cocked the gun, the little ‘click’ shattering the silence.
He sighed, shoulders slumping as he pushed his head back, leaning into the gun’s barrel.
”Maybe…” his raspy voice started, “I underestimated you.”
”I could kill you,” you replied coolly, “I should kill you.”
”But you won’t. I’m a pretty big player in all this League of Villains shit and you know that,” he started turning slowly, looking over his shoulder, bathing his profile in a bluish moonlight and illuminating the sick grin he wore, “So what exactly’s the plan then? Huh, crybaby?”
He was taunting you.
You set your jaw tightly and genuinely thought about pulling the trigger.
The nickname made you sick. You thought he was just being an asshole to you in the bar a few weeks ago when he called you that… you wouldn’t have thought it was a twisted little nickname he gave you after assaulting you.
”I want to talk.”
He scoffed, turning around, gazing up at you as he sat leisurely on your futon. He didn’t even bother to tuck his cock back into his pants. “I didn’t come in here to talk.”
”But that’s exactly what’s going to happen asshole or I’m going to tell Shigaraki—“
”He already knows crybaby. He watched.”
You faltered, face completely falling, “He- he what?”
Dabi grinned maliciously at you, “I let him watch last time, especially since you were such a good girl for me the first time I stopped by, taking my cock so well. I figured since he has such a hard time keeping his eyes off you then I’d really give him something to look at.”
“So,” you began shakily, “When he was interrogating me at the bar for missing that meeting—“
”Oh he knew why. He had been jerkin’ it to you the entire night.”
Fuck— tears were starting to collect in your tear ducts.
You blinked quickly in an attempt to hold them back.
You were just so fucking weak. How was it that you found yourself in progressively worse situations your entire life.
Joining these guys was supposed to mean something.
”Why,” you swallowed, gun shaking in your hand, “I thought we were supposed to be teammates.”
”I’d argue that we’re more than that now,” the words felt sinister, making you grow sicker by the second, “Do you want to know what the first thing I thought when the broker introduced you?”
You stayed silent, you didn’t want to play into this little game of his.
”I thought ‘now what cruel motherfucker would make someone that looked like you but wasn’t allowed to be touched’? But then,” he leaned back on his hands, nearly presenting his cock to you, “Once I was balls deep in that tight little virgin cunt, and you were shaking and crying in my arms I realized that you were made for me. I am the only man in this world that can fuck you. Your cunt belongs to me.”
Shit, shit, shit
”Don’t feel too bad though. This isn’t a one way street. I’ve never had pussy that’s made me fucking shake before, and that’s all you crybaby. You’re the only one that can offer me the kind of pain and pleasure that makes me forget about every crappy thing in my life.”
He was getting in your fucking head.
“You’re insane.” You muttered hoarsely, throat suddenly dry, gun shaking even more in your hands.
”Well, what sane man would want you?”
You don’t know what possessed you, the weeks of anxiety? All the pent up anger he had caused?
Whatever it was, it didn’t matter. You threw the gun across your little room and lunged at Dabi.
He wanted to feel pain? Then you’d show him what actual pain feels like.
Your inebriated body couldn’t access the full potential of your quirk.
And you hadn’t been quirk training for nothing.
You tackled him to the futon and landed in the muddy remnants of your clone, straddling his waist as you placed both your palms against his bare chest.
Dabi’s hand flew to your wrists as… as a groan left his throat. It wasn’t a scream or a wail, it wasn’t what you expected. And the pinch in his eyebrows was anything but anguish.
His palms were hot but he wasn’t using his quirk to push you away.
You had seen and heard looks of agony and suffering on people more than you’d care to admit, but this was not that.
You pushed against his chest harder, against the deep purple scars and seams of his body, digging your fingers into the stapled flesh and drawing blood.
”Fuck— that’s different,” he groaned out, “Why’s it different.”
”Why aren’t you in more pain,” you snapped, “I’ve made grown men kill themselves after only brushing against my arm just to end their suffering. What the fuck is wrong with you!” You screamed into his face.
He only moaned in response.
Which was when you had realized he had reached down when you weren’t paying attention. He reached between the gap where you had either leg on either side of his body and was fisting his cock. He was jerking himself off while you were hurting him.
A disillusioned laugh escaped your throat, broken and choppy.
This was absurd.
This went against everything you believed about your quirk while growing up.
That your entire identity surrounded the fact that you inflicted pain and everyone and anything would always see you as the villain because of that. You were meant to be avoided and feared, never wanted or desired.
You were losing your goddamned mind.
”You’re a fucking freak,” you suddenly laughed louder at the realization, watching him drag his fist over his cock, the metal barbells of his Jacob’s ladder glinting in the moonlight. “You walk around here all tough and moody, acting like you’re better than everyone else but you’re just as fucking crazy as the rest of them.”
“You’re just as sick,” he choked out with a laugh of his own, “Watching me playing with your clone. You listened to her cry and beg me to stop and you just watched.”
”Shut up,” you hissed. You knew it was wrong, you had promised her you’d stop him before he touched her inappropriately, but when he started you couldn’t bring yourself to end things.
A twisted part of you wanted to watch and it made you fucking sick.
Just as what you did next made you sick.
You reached down between your legs and grabbed his cock yourself, pushing his own hand away.
He threw his head back, letting out an even louder groan. You could tell this one hurt more than the hand on his chest and it made you smile knowing he was in pain no matter how much pleasure he got from it.
You started jerking him off yourself, listening to his heaving grunts and groans with every stroke of your hand. You paid no mind to the piercings in his cock, if he liked the pain then he could deal with any snagging.
He started tugging on your shirt, pushing it up higher. His hands pawing at your body until one reached your bra, pushing it up to grab your tits.
Your mind felt like it was splitting. You didn’t want him to touch you but you didn’t want to stop him.
But the nail in the coffin was when he tangled a hand in the back of your hair and tugged you down.
He was kissing you.
He tasted like burnt flesh and cigarettes.
His tongue forced itself past your lips and brushed against your own in broad strokes.
You didn’t pull away, you only kissed him back with equal fervor, biting his lips and letting him stick his tongue as far back into your mouth as he wanted to.
You moaned into the kiss, a moan that had been swallowed by his mouth, sending a flutter of excitement in the pit of your stomach.
He broke the kiss. Glowing cyan eyes boring into yours, “Ride me crybaby.”
You sat up, pulling your hoodie over your head and quickly undoing your bra, throwing them to the side as Dabi pulled at your pants.
You smacked his hands away, standing up to work them down your legs yourself before landing on top of him again.
He hissed at the pain as you touched him with a newly exposed body.
You ignored him, grabbing his cock and lining it up at your entrance. You sunk down slowly, adjusting to the size and the feeling of the piercings entering you.
But it wasn’t fast enough for Dabi because he was grabbing at your hips and pulling you down forcefully onto his cock.
You shook and cried out from the pain, collapsing against his chest as you sucked in breath after breath.
But Dabi shook harder from underneath you, pained moans of your name leaving his lips. You watched in curiosity, ignoring your own throbbing pain from between your legs as he started panting, body going slack.
You started laughing, you were pretty sure the fucking freak just came, ”Did you just—?”
”It’ll get hard again, just start fucking moving,” he grunted, grabbing at your hips.
So you did.
You had no idea what your were doing so you just did whatever felt good, and grinding your clit against his pubic hair felt really good.
The feeling of his cock getting hard inside you again made you dig your fingers into his stapled flesh once more, drawing more blood.
”Shit— ride me better,” he hissed.
”I don’t know how—“
“Shut up,” he spat, holding your hips in a bruising grip as he bent his knees to get some leverage and began to thrust into you from underneath.
“Oh fuck,” you gasped. You had never felt anything like this before.
The next second he was slipping his arms around your back and switching your positions, slipping out of you but you had barely any time to process it as he slammed back into you as he was now hunched over your body.
You yelped at the brutal pace he set, hips pounding against yours. You could feel his balls slapping against your ass and every piercing dragging in and out of you.
Your high pitched, breathy moans mixed with his own deeply pained and pleasured grunts. The sounds of flesh slapping against flesh and all the lewd wet noises that came with every thrust made you blush deeply.
Next he was yanking your leg up, hooking it over his elbow, allowing him to reach deeper inside you.
You threw your head back, “There,” you breathed out.
You were getting close and Dabi could tell by the clenching and unclenching of your cunt. He snaked a hand down and found your clit, rubbing tight circles into it.
“Cum crybaby, show me this cunt belongs to me.”
You fucking hated that nickname. And you hated his entitlement.
You wrapped your hands around his throat, listening to those pained noises that were starting to make your head spin.
He fucked into you even harder.
Everything went white.
You were cumming and then he was cumming, the two of you shaking in each others arms.
He had slid out with a hiss, collapsing beside you, careful not to touch you.
You stared up at your ceiling, listening to his pants. You turned to look at him.
He really was shaking.
You reached over and touched his chest, grinning at the now truly pained reaction you got.
He activated his quirk making you hiss and pull away, cradling your now burned hand to your chest.
It was quiet for a few beats.
”Why are you able to touch me?” You finally asked.
”The doctor that put me back together said my pain receptors are fucked.”
”Oh,” that actually… made a lot of sense.
You looked back to him again. Eyeing his profile, following the slope of his nose and the subtle pout of his mouth. You looked at his scars, how the deep purple skin was being held together to his healthy skin by staples. You stared at the swollen seams where the skin was connected.
You were beginning to think he had it wrong.
He was actually made for you.
-
Tear You Apart Prequel (Dabi x Reader x Shigaraki)
ᰔ pairings: dabi/touya todoroki x fem!reader
ᰔ content/tags: canon touya death, angst, childhood trauma, death, time jumps, somewhat linear to canon storyline, suicide, violence, almost smut. mdni pls
ᰔ wc: 15k
ᰔ a/n: reworking of an old fic that had been sitting in my drafts for almost two years. I was never happy with the first one, so here is its replacement. not proof-read its 15k words pls cut me some slack. Chihiro is just a nickname he calls you, it’s not your legal government name.
ᰔ What is grief, if not love persevering?
Touya: Nine years old
You: Seven (and three-quarters) years old
Many things are perplexing to the mind of an eight-year-old. Why is the sky that shade of blue? Where do the teachers go at the end of the school day? Does chocolate milk come from brown cows? Why do you always have to go home after dinner when other kids can stay over for sleepovers? Why is Fuyumi’s mum always sad? And why did her dad look like that? Why is he so mean to her brother but nice to Fuyumi? And why do they always have to eat the grossest things?
Your mind wanders over the possible reasons for the steaming heap of greens that sits on your plate before you. There are no distinguishable vegetables, all steamed and shrivelled together, stacked with steamed fish, vegetables and rice; a small bowl of soup to the left and a cup of tea to the right. The same meal every Tuesday night. Seven pm on the dot, everyone is called to the meal and by seven thirty it is done and packed away. It was strange at first, the complete opposite of the chaos-ridden household that had your mother battling both you and your brother for a chance to speak, and even when everyone was chewing faces stuffed full, there was still noise; a TV or radio, the dishwasher or dryer, something to signify life. But at the Todorokis ’, there is nothing. Not even silence can fill the void that is dinner time.
Fuyumi’s brother sits across from you, eyes trained on his dinner plate. He had made no move to eat, just sat and stared as if he could magically move the food to his mouth. The bags under his eyes had deepened since you were last over, his eyes darker and mouth pulled further into a frown. White bandages wrap the entirety of his forearm, pockmarked with blood blooms from beneath.
“Fuyumi. Is he-“ Your question is hushed, spoken from the corner of your mouth to avoid raising suspicion of the subject.
“He’s okay, we don’t talk about it.” Her answer comes in a rush, eyes darting towards her father like a prey animal watching their stalker. “Just eat.”
You can’t look away, too invested in the red that continues to seep across the stark white material and just as you’re about to ask again, to question why she would deem her brother as fine in this condition, you’re interrupted.
"Fuyumi," Her brother sneers from across the table. "Tell your friend to stop staring at me."
Unabashed hatred simmers in his blue eyes as his glare falls on you and heat rises to your cheeks, stumbling out an apology, and vowing to never look at him again.
No one has ever looked at you like that. Even on the playground, when you got into disagreements and fights, there was never that level of hatred, and it made you nervous.
"He plays rough, always falling over at school," Mr Todoroki’s voice booms throughout the room, so loud and sudden it is like a thunderclap on a clear day. "You've got to be more careful, Touya. What would people think if they saw you like this!"
The lack of care for his son’s well-being gives you pause mid-bite. The vegetables fall from your fork as goosebumps skitter along your skin.
What would people think if they saw you like this?
What would they think other than that he had been in an accident? Is Touya’s broken body a regular occurrence that people would be so used to seeing that it would start to raise suspicion? Had he been hurt on purpose? Why would Mr Todoroki say that? Did Mr Todoroki do that to Touya?
Your attention is pulled outwardly as Fuyumu’s other brother compliments the food. Natuso, I think it's his name. Never really having spoken to him outside of a few hi’s and bye’s at school, and as you leave for the evening. He is nice, always smiling at you and never making you feel the way her other brother did.
Dinner ends as quickly as it began, and before you can stand and apologise to Touya, he is being ushered out of the room by the nanny. All you wanted to do was say sorry and ask if he was okay, but you don’t think you’re going to get that chance as the housekeepers begin to clear the table. You’re quickly packed up, and the housekeeper is getting ready to walk you home despite the somewhat early hour. You never stay past eight pm, you never sleep over, even if it’s a weekend, so the send off is nothing out of the ordinary. Thanking Mrs Todoroki and the nanny, you hug Fuyumi goodbye and turn down the long pathway to the front gate, where your mother is waiting, the thoughts of Touya plaguing you long after you left the house and were tucked into your warm bed surrounded by the love and colour of your room. You will talk to him next time, whatever you have to do, you will just ask if he is okay. Even if it takes weeks, months or years, you will talk to him one day.
---
Touya: Eleven years old
You: Ten Years Old
It takes two years before Touya even acknowledges your existence.
Starting with timid hellos across the dinner table and shy waves as you leave the house, but you eventually get him to notice you. The shift in your friendship was gradual, like the way a house is warmed by a fire on a winter’s eve. Slow and steady, seeping into all corners of the once-frozen house until all you know is warmth, and you can’t remember how the cold feels. That’s how you’d describe Touya’s presence in your life. Morphing from a once-hateful boy who wanted nothing to do with you into someone you could possibly call a friend, or at least someone you know.
The final piece of ice around his heart shattered one random afternoon.
Knee deep in the heat of summer, you had rushed over the second that summer school bell rang. Gripping your backpack in one hand and an ice lolly in the other, you ran down the street, your dream of jumping headfirst into the fresh, cold heaven of the local pool spurring on your feet as you hit the pavement.
“ ‘Yumi, let’s go!” you call down the hallway, searching for your friend who so far is nowhere to be found. “I’ll buy the ice cream this time!”
The Hello Kitty watch on your wrist beeps as four pm rolls around. Where is she? Usually, Fuyumi met you after school, but last night she had mentioned something about going out with her mum and to just come over. The idea had your stomach rolling.
What if you run into her dad while waiting for her? What would you say? Would he even acknowledge you or just look away like he did most times?
You have grown to hate Mr Todoroki.
He hasn’t done anything to you personally to deserve the contempt you held towards him, but you had heard enough. Fuyumi had opened up to you at your last sleepover. All the stories about how her parents were always fighting, her mum crying and the sound of things breaking. The way he treated Natuso and Touya, his disregard for Fuyumi. There are not a lot of people you have come to hate in your short ten years, but Mr Todoroki was at the top of that list.
You call for your friend again, turning down the hall to her bedroom and stopping upon hearing clattering in the bathroom.
“ ‘Yumi, you could have at least- oh. turning into the bathroom, you begin to scold your friend for letting you shout throughout the house looking for her, but it isn’t Fuyumi.
Slouched on the bathroom floor, Touya is surrounded by bloodied towels, unspooled bandages, and uncapped ointment tubes. Tears streak down soot-covered skin, gauze caught between his teeth as he hisses at the pain.
Panic freezes you in place, the image of Touya broken and bleeding searing itself into your brain. Scorched skin covers his arms, peeling and raw as he tries his best to clean the wound with antiseptic wipes, but each touch against fresh skin has a cry leaving him.
“Touya”, you ask, voice timid and slightly terrified.
Cerulean eyes shoot up to you, fear blazing like a wildfire within them. He shouts at you to leave, the command a broken hiccup around sobs, and while someone a lot smarter than you would turn tail out of the room, you can’t leave him, not like this.
The intricacies of the afternoon blur together in your mind, but you remember the feel of cold tiles beneath your knees as you kneel next to him. The smell of metal and salt and something so clinically acidic you can’t remember if it was bathroom cleaner or the antiseptic solution. The sound of Touya’s cries as you peeled incorrectly placed bandages off raw and exposed skin, cooing at him the way your mother did when you scraped your knee. The putrid taste of bile bubbled up in your throat as you held back your nausea at the gore in front of you.
It had all been too much for your little brain to comprehend. Too much blood and pain, guilt and anger at a situation you did not cause but found yourself patching up. You don’t remember much of it, but what you do is sometimes too much, and you find yourself getting nauseous as the sight of raw meat or the smell of antiseptic, and so you push it down, lock it away in the depths of your mind and try not to remember the combination to the safe.
But Touya was nicer to you after that, so maybe that afternoon wasn’t that bad.
---
Touya: Twelve years old
You: Eleven years old
“So it's this really old movie that my mum used to watch”, you explain as you click on the familiar title screen. “It’s about a girl who gets transported to this weird world, and she has to solve some weird riddle to get out.”
Touya looks at you like you had grown a second head, but accepts your weird movie recommendation, nonetheless. The popcorn bucket jiggles as the couch sinks under your frame. The room is dark save for the soft light of the TV, but even in the darkness, you can see Touya’s eyes on you. Sometimes he does that. Just looks at you without saying much before blurting out something stupid or unimportant, and while it can be a little annoying, you kind of enjoy it. Since that day in the bathroom two years ago, a unique friendship had developed. Gone was the hostility, and in its place was affection, a kind you were not used to receiving but welcomed. It wasn’t weird or romantic, but it felt different, closer. Like he was your best friend. You told each other everything, shared everything, where Touya went, there you were. It was strange to get closer to Fuyumi’s brother, and you had talked to her about it, wanting to make sure she wasn’t feeling left out, and while she was confused as to how and why your friendship with her brother had developed, she was happy he had a friend he could talk to, someone who wasn’t Natsuo or his father. She had been invited to tonight’s movie night, a regular occurrence since the beginning of the summer holidays, but she had ice skating practice and couldn’t miss it, so it was just you and Touya in your family’s living room.
The beginning animation of Spirited Away starts, and the familiar tune wraps around you like a warm hug. Movie night was usually for watching new releases or catching on film the others hadn’t seen, while Spirited Away did fit one of the criteria for the evening, it was more of a comfort movie you wanted to share. It was something you liked to watch whenever you felt sad, and you had noticed Touya was a little sadder than normal these days, so why not? The spirit world opens up on the screen, your hurt fluttering as Haku appears.
“I’m gonna call you Chihiro,” Touya announces, scaring you out of your trance as the final scene comes to a close.
“Huh?”
“All she does is cry, and so do you,” he laughs, picking up the popcorn from between the two of you and stuffing a handful into his mouth.
“I do not!” you retort.. “I cry a normal amount for a girl my age!”
Touya rolls his eyes, still crunching on his popcorn. “Whatever, Chihiro.”
---
Touya: Thirteen years old
You: Twelve years old
Spring is only a month away, yet it feels as if it were the middle of December.
The cold of winter had sunk its claws deep into the city and did not want to let go. Tokyo was bundled up against the frost, very few daring to venture outside if they did not have to and yet as you stand in the street waiting for Touya to come pick you up, it is not that frost that causes your hands to shake.
It’s Valentine's Day, and you are about to ask Touya to be yours.
Held between your fingers is a single rose you had purchased from the mart on your way home. It was entirely too expensive for a single flower, but a special day requires special flowers.
The idea of a valentine is not lost on you. No longer is it a silly little holiday where you make your mum or dad a card; it is now serious. Reserved only for crushes and boyfriends, though Touya is not the latter, and it is stupid to think your crush would go anywhere, but you’re a romantic, and you could totally play it off as a friendship thing.
“What do I do with this?” Touya asks, confused at the flower in his hands.
You had planned to give it to him on the way to the movies, maybe even see if he liked you back, but in the moment upon seeing his beanie-covered head pop into your field of vision, you panicked and shoved the bloom into his hands.
“It's for you”, you answer, eyes trained on your shoes.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“Are you asking me to be your Valentine?” a pause. “Do you like me?”
Yes.
“No!” you lie, shouting the word even though you didn’t mean to. “I felt bad that you hadn’t gotten anything, so I got you something, and there you go, it doesn’t mean I like you.” The snow at your feet is incredibly interesting as you feel your cheeks heat.
Touya shuffles forward, the toes of his boots coming into view. “Just admit, you like me.” He teases.
“I do not!” you snap, taking a step away from him and pulling your scarf up over the lower half of your face to hide the raging blush. “I already told you why I got them, now shut up before I take them back!”
Another pause as if he is thinking what to say. Your stomach is alight as if you had just shoved a live wire into your belly button, and you know it is silly, so silly to hope that he might admit that he likes you, but you know him. Touya does not have time for crushes. There is only hero work. How to become one and then how to become number one. No room for anything other than training, training and more training, but even so, Touya looks up at you, cheeks tinted pink and smiles.
“Thank you,” he says. He sounds sincere, and that makes your heart race. “Even if it's just cause you felt bad for me”
You smile back, mouth desperately wanting to frown, but you will not let it show.
“I’ve gotta get you something.” Touya quickly looks around, trying to figure out the closest convenience store to get you a flower, a chocolate or something. “Come on, I’ll buy ‘ya a giant bucket of popcorn and only take a handful.” he reaches for your hand, slipping his freezing fingers against yours. It’s sweet, platonic and nothing more, you remind yourself. Just your best friend holding your hand because that’s what best friends do.
What you don’t know is that your hand in his and the rose in his hand has Touya’s heart doing double time in his chest. Maybe you did like him back, and maybe this was his chance!
Spring had come early for Touya Todoroki.
---
Touya: Fifteen years old
You: Fourteen years old
Romance had blossomed between the two of you, then wilted, then blossomed again, then wilted again. Teenage hormones had been unleashing havoc on your friendship for the past year. One day, you were fine, and the next, barely speaking, but it wasn’t anyone’s fault.
“You two just need some time apart, and then you can talk about it; you guys will sort it out.” Your mother had cooed, stroking your hair back as you cried one afternoon after you and Touya had had a ruthless argument.
The topic of fighting was always the same. His insane need to overtake his father and prove him wrong. It was bordering on obsession, and it was not healthy. All he thought about was training, his quirk, high school and the hero ranking. His dreams and goals had turned from wanting to be good and help to make the world a better place, into something that stemmed from contempt. The dream that would have one day been achieved through hard work and dedication, turning your friend into a ravenous beast.
“You’re not listening to me. I need you to listen to me.” Touya seethes beside you as you walk home.
“I am.” You can’t help the roll of your eyes. “You’re just not making sense. Why would your dad have it out for you? He’s your dad?”
Touya huffs and stops, hand wrapping around your wrist to pull you back.
“My dad isn’t like your dad. He doesn’t love me or any of us. He just wants us to be better than All Might.” His words are slow, as if explaining something to a toddler. “He knows that I am more powerful than him, and now he’s scared that I might beat him, so he wants me to stop training.”
You groan out his name, annoyed at the constant conversation topic. “Your dad wants you to stop training because you keep hurting yourself. He has told you that a million times; he’s just trying to keep you safe.”
“If he wanted to keep me safe, he wouldn’t have let me train like this. This isn’t about me being safe, this is about me outranking my dad.”
“Touya-“
He continues his tirade. “Enji has realised that I am better than him and Shoto, but he doesn’t want his loser son, who can only use fire, to become the number one hero. I don’t know why you’re on his side. Why can’t you be on my side for once?”
“I am on your side!” you shout, yanking your arm away from his grasp. “I’m always on your side. Why do you always make it seem like everyone is against you!”
Touya’s mouth snaps shut at your sudden outburst.
“I can’t keep having this argument with you. I feel like you don’t even want to be my friend, so you come up with this stupid stuff to push me away, and if you want that, fine. Just tell me so I don’t have to listen to you anymore.” It comes out a little huffier than intended, but you are tired of the constant conspiracy and, no matter how much you try to help and comfort him, he doesn’t listen.
“I’m going home. Text me later, or don’t. I don't really care at this point.” Defeated cannot begin to cover how you are feeling as you begin the trek home alone.
For the first time in four years, there are no footsteps that follow you.
His apology comes in a text later that night.
I'm sorry, Chihiro. Can we still be friends?
---
Touya: Fifteen years old
You: Fourteen Years old
“Can you promise me something?” Touya’s words become mist in the mid-autumn night.
You turn to face your friend, feeling the dew-soaked grass squish beneath your shoulders, the blades brushing against your cheek as you lay your head on your outstretched arm. Your eyes rove over his bruise-marked body, the newest having faded into a bright yellow along his cheekbone. It hadn’t even been a week since his latest emergency room incident, where he had burnt the majority of the skin of his back, before he was back in the ring with his father. Still bandaged and wincing as his quirk flared from his fingers, his father had still not pulled his punches.
“Depends.” You shuffle closer, pulling at your friend’s arm to use as a makeshift pillow.
Hidden behind the garden wall, lost within the shrubber, the two of you hide from the housekeepers who had been tasked with wrangling the children in for dinner. Touya had run first, taking off down the hall the second he heard the call of his name, and you followed, hand in hand, unaware as to what you were running from, but you followed him everywhere, so why wouldn’t you now?
“Please don’t forget me.”
“Forget you?” Your brows crinkle in confusion, lifting your head from his arm.“Why would I forget you? Are you going somewhere?”
Touya is still on his back, attention rapt on the stars twinkling above him.
“Just when we get older and go to different schools, and things change, you know.” He sighs. “Just don’t forget me.”
You sit up, concern overtaking your confusion. Why is he talking about this stuff now? Your friend turns to look at you, mouth pulled down in a frown as tears line his cerulean eyes.
“I won't.” You shake your head and hold out your hand, pinky held up in an oath.
Touya interlocks his pinky finger with yours and holds tight.
“I promise, I won’t ever forget you.”
---
Touya: Sixteen years old
You: Sixteen years old
Nights come quicker in winter.
Which means less time spent with Touya.
But at least there is a little extra time when he walks you home on an evening.
It’s a little awkward. Walking so close together but not actually touching, aside from the occasional brush of fingers that sends your heart into a sprint. There is something unspoken between the two of you, something that teeters on the edge of romance, but not something that you are both ready to dive into. It’s not like you are kids anymore; if you are going to date, it will be different from if you just liked each other. You will have to act like a girlfriend and not his friend, and you didn’t know how to be a girlfriend. Was it any different from how you acted now? Plus, kissing and hand-holding. God, you want to kiss him.
You stop at your front gate. The lights in the living room are on; your parents are waiting up for you. It’s only quarter past eight.
Touya drops your backpack at your feet, insistent that he carried it up the hill for you.
There is a beat of stillness between the two of you, the tension rising with every second. You had not spoken a single word to each other the entire walk home, and you don’t think you will even say goodbye. Touya offers you a tight smile and steps back, confirming your suspicions of a silent goodbye.
"Hey, I need to tell you something." You blurt out the words, not wanting him to leave just yet.
"Yeah?"
"I…umm," stammering, you slip your hands into your jacket pockets. "I know it's your birthday in a few weeks, so I wanted to know what you want as a present."
"That's a question, Chihiro” Touya's mouth lifts at the corners. “You said you needed to tell me something."
“I got mixed up." You amend.
"You sure? There isn't anything you need to tell me?" Touya pushes, taking a step to close the gap.
"I'm sure. I just got confused" A nod to affirm the choice of words. “What do you want as a gift?”
"Hmm,” He pauses and takes a few more steps closer, lips pursed as if deep in thought. “Well, I want some of those cookies your mom makes."
Touya stops a few feet from you, close enough that you can feel the heat radiating from him. A new side effect of his quirk.
You laugh. "Really? That's it? You don't want a proper present?"
He nods. "Wrap it up, and it'll be a proper present.”
“Okay, cookies it is” You mirror his nod and smile. Your palms start to sweat, cheeks and ears begin to burn as you look up at your best friend, the height difference a new development between the two of you.
“Any more questions?”
You shake your head. “Nope, that’s all.”
“Okay, well I’m gonna go 'cause I should have been home ten minutes ago, but you are such a slow walker,” He teases, bouncing up on his toes.
“I-Um,” you stutter, unable to come up with a snappy comeback due to his proximity. “Go home before you get into trouble.”
“I’m gonna.”
He makes no move to go.
Silence fills the gap.
“Ahh, Well, I’m going to go since-“
You’re interrupted by a soft kiss against your cheek.
You still.
Unable to move at the realisation that Touya had just kissed you.
“Okay, I’m going.” He announces and takes a step back. “I’ll see you on Monday?”
You nod, raising a hand in goodbye as he starts back down the street.
“I hope you like me too, 'cause that kiss made me late and my dad’s gonna kill me!” he shouts back, already halfway down the street.
“I do…like you…back” you shout awkwardly, feeling every inch of blood in your body flood into your cheeks. “Good luck. Hope your dad doesn't kill you!”
---
Touya: Seventeen years old
You: Sixteen Years old
You speak at Touya’s funeral.
The third speaker of the ceremony, having been urged on by Fuyumi and Natsuo despite your protests, and the one to close off the day before his ashes were taken home. You tried not to cry, bottom lip wobbling all day, and you would have made it had you not been shoved on stage, microphone held to your face as you unfolded the crumpled sheet you had stuffed into the pocket of your coat.
The rest of the day was a blur as was the week, then the month and only after six full months of grieving daily, crying god only knows how much, did you finally start to see the light at the top of the hole you had buried yourself in but unlike the times you and Touya would play together, his warm hand wasn’t there to help you back up.
---
You: Twenty-five years old
Touya: Seventeen years old
You think about Touya Todoroki often.
What kind of man he could have been. The type of hero he might have gone on to be. The hastily jumbled words strung together that once lived in the back of his notebook, adoring billboards and magazine covers, as his hero name is plastered across the world with his moonbeam smile and blazing eyes, capturing the hearts of the nation as he burned with pride. Pride within himself at the man he had become, despite the unfortunate luck that had been his childhood, that the hatred and vitriol within his father had not only shaped his upbringing but was a part of his very DNA. That the malice that made up Enji had seeped into Touya’s blood long before he had a chance to lay a finger on the poor child. But Touya would overcome that. Would work through the pain caused by the pro hero and come out better, not just as a hero but as a man, a human who would never dream of inflicting the pain his father had. You think about him enough that you think you’re going crazy when you look up into the eyes of a stranger and see Touya staring back at you.
"Touya?" The name rolls off your tongue, heart stuttering in your chest before beating and clawing its way up your throat.
The anticipated shortcut through the back alley had been stalled as you slammed headfirst into something, well, someone. Your eyes had not adjusted to the lack of light after you had slipped from the safety of the mainstreet into what could have been a dangerous decision but you had been down this road so many times in the last week, you had memorised the fallen planks and overflowing dumpsters you could navigate your way in the dark, so when you were met with a wall, it stunned you more than it should have.
Air leaves you in a harsh huff at the sudden shove, but it is quickly replaced with a shaky gasp as two hands grip your forearms. Nails dig into rain-soaked skin, the bite of metal along once warm skin welds the stranger's hands to you, so that even if you were to tear yourself from their grasp, flesh would tear.
You had walked headfirst into their chest while crossing the dark street, ducking under awnings to avoid the winter rain. Hoping to cut ten minutes from your usual walk home, desperate to beat your roommate home and into the warm embrace of your apartment’s limited hot water, what you weren’t hoping for was to bump into your dead best friend.
There is no way it was him; maybe he’s a distant Todoroki. Enji did seem like the type to spread it around, so maybe a few illegitimate children were running around with the eyes of Endeavour.
“I know you.”
The words leave your mouth before your brain has a chance to process. It was not a logical thought; hell, there was no thought behind it, just a desperate reach into a depthless void without the knowledge of what lay beyond. It was stupid to grab onto the arm of a strange man in an even stranger alley; all the survival skills that had been drilled into you slipped away the second you saw that flash of blue. A blue you had not seen in years, a blue you had thought you would never see again.
"Who the fuck are you?" a harsh whisper cuts through the quiet patter of rain.
The gruff voice has a shiver skittering up your spine.
The hand on your arm tightens when you take too long to respond. Not Touya. He would never be this rough with you. Not Touya because he’s dead. Touya is dead, and you are standing in an alleyway inches from a crazy guy’s face.
“I’m sorry.” The apology is rushed, terror replacing misplaced hope in an instant. “I thought you were someone else. I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry”
The stranger ducks his head to get closer to yours, and you turn your face away, afraid to look into the face of the man who had the eyes of a long-lost love. He reeks of beer and cigarettes and something sweet, but you can’t quite place it. You attempt to pull away, but his hands hold you in place.
“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it. If you let me go, I won’t mention this to anyone, and I won’t walk down this way again.” Your bottom lip quivers despite your best attempts to hold it together. “I’ll forget everything that happened, and you won’t ever see me again and -”
“Hey,” the man shakes you out of your ramble.
Your mouth closes, jaw clenching as you fight back tears, but it’s not enough to keep a few from sliding down your cheeks. His hands reach up to grip your chin, lifting your face to his, and the gesture makes your stomach flip. It’s too familiar and gentle. Your head spins.
“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I'm sorry, I-“ You’re sobbing now, unable to hold back the floodgates.
“Look at me,” He interrupts, fingers tightening on your cheeks.
The order is repeated when you don’t comply.
You sniffle, blink back tears that refuse to stop coming, and focus your attention on the man before you.
“I’m not going to hurt you, so stop crying,” he reassures, voice rough but with a softness you do not expect.
A hand cups your cheek, caloused thumb brushing away the tears that fall over your skin. Warm skin is flush against yours, and the man holds you with such tenderness you feel a tug at your heart. It is not attraction or arousal or connection that has your chest tightening, but something you can’t explain, something that is so deeply rooted it is unknown to you.
“I need you to stop crying and answer me. Can you do that?” he prompts, thumb still brushing over skin.
You nod, unable to speak.
“Good girl.” Heat floods your cheeks. “Now, why is a pretty girl like you walking alone at night?” he asks softly.
You blink up at him, surprised at the switch in demeanour.
“I-umm…” Your bottom lip continues quivering despite your best efforts. “I just finished work and wanted to cut through to get home quicker. I’m really sorry about the whole name thing, you just look like a friend who died, and I thought that maybe he wasn’t actually- I’m sorry” Tears cloud your vision.
The stranger tilts his head, and you swear he sighs in sympathy.
“I’m sorry, I won’t ever-” you begin apologising again, needing this interaction to end before your brain explodes.
“It’s okay, sweetheart, just be more careful, alright?” The man reaches up for the hood of your raincoat, pulling it over your head tightly to shield you from the rain.
“I need one more thing from you,” He asks, ducking his head to look into your eyes. “You gonna listen to me again?”
“Okay.” Your voice shakes.
“Don’t mention that name to anyone else, alright?”
He waits for your nod and then releases your hood. “You’re such a good listener” The fact that he is praising you has your head spinning. Wasn’t he ready to attack you a few minutes ago?
“Now go home”, he nods his head to the exit of the alleyway. You follow his nod and look back at the light-filled street. “And don’t walk down backstreets anymore, you could get hurt.”
By the time you turn back to face him, he is already halfway down the alleyway, arm raised in a farewell. You watch as he turns the corner, and only when he is gone do you let yourself breathe.
---
You: Twenty-five years old
Touya: Seventeen years old
"Let it go, dude," Natsuo sighs for the umpteenth time as he packs his books away. "You're lucky you didn't get hurt. He could have been a complete psycho."
You groan, exasperated, but it should not be you who is annoyed. Natuso is right, and has been every time you have brought up the strange man in the alley, and you can tell by the way he shoves his books into his backpack, he is sick of hearing about it.
Over the years, you had grown closer to Natsuo, looking at him like a little brother who you could force to hang out with and do things Fuyumi didn't want to. It’s not as if you and Fuyumi aren’t as close; if anything, you are closer now that you go to different schools and have different lives, it’s just that Natuso is easier to annoy. Initially, Natsuo was concerned, terrified for your physical and mental well-being, even going so far as to suggest letting his father know about the incident to launch a formal investigation, but you were quick to shut that down. You hadn’t been hurt, and the man didn’t seem to be skulking in alleyways to assault anyone, so there is no reason you should get heroes involved.
"Dude, he looked so familiar! I know him," you press on, hands splayed on the library table as you lean in as if you were about to reveal a secret. "I think he was a childhood friend."
You had purposefully omitted the fact that the stranger bore a striking resemblance to his dead brother or how his entire aura radiated familiarity and warmth, something you only really felt from said brother.
Natsuo laughs and zips his bag closed. " 'Yumi was your only childhood friend."
"Fine, a neighbour, maybe I don't know, but I know him."
"Should I schedule you with my family psych, or will this fade by next month?" You frown at Natsu, sigh, and then give in to his pronounced lack of interest.
"I don't need to see anyone because I know I'm right," you start to pack up your things. "But, just for you, I won't mention it again."
---
You: Twenty-five years old
Touya: Seventeen years old
Stupid.
The only word that could be used to describe the series of choices you had made up until this point in time.
Really fucking stupid.
So momentously stupid that even if you were to post about it online in some secret kinky villain corruption fetish forum, the comments would call you out on the level of brainlessness you had displayed in these last few days. It isn’t even lunacy at this point, it’s suicical. Why else would you knock on the door to a very scary, very secret villain's hideout in hopes of interrogating one.
Your heart beat is no longer in your chest, instead it pounds in your throat with a metallic throb that has you swallowing over and over again hoping to ease some of the tightness forming and just as you think that maybe the universe had stepped in to save your dumbass, that you had been sent a different location on purpose or that maybe no one wanted to answer the door. You could make a swift getaway with both your body and life intact, but the sound of metal fills the alleyway.
A peephole slides open to reveal nothing but darkness beyond.
Your heart pounds harder.
“Yeah?” A gruff voice calls out to you, words slurred with what you can only assume is copious amounts of alcohol.
“I have a meeting with...ummm”, you glance down at your phone balanced against the box in your hand, squinting at the blurry name on the screen. “Dabi? I think.”
This has to be a setup. There is no way that the anonymous person you had been communicating with over shitty Discord messages was anything but a horrible person hell-bent on selling you for some extra cash, and in all honesty, you would not blame the guy because you had willingly entered the shark-infested waters holding a bucket of chum.
“You think?” There is a smirk in the mystery man’s voice at the uncertainty in yours. “I think you might have the wrong door, sweetheart.”
That’s the sign. A signal from the almighty to pack it up and head home because some things are better left alone. Hidden behind a closed metal door with a scary bouncer, because maybe you weren’t about to get murdered and trafficked, but maybe the truth was something you didn’t want to know. Maybe Touya really was dead, and this ridiculous delusion you had been living in for the past three months was nothing more than grief manifesting, but there is something in your gut, a tugging deep in your body that is pushing you to keep going.
With a roll of your shoulders, you gather some courage and hold your phone up to the peephole. “This is the address I was given.”
Metal squeals as he pulls it back further to get a better view.
“I promise I'm not with the police or anything, I just have some questions for Dabi, and I know that makes me sound like I’m a police officer, but I’m not, and I’ve been looking for him for weeks, so please, let me in.”
You attempt a weak smile, trying to seem genuine, but it comes across as anything but.
“What’s in the box?” The man questions.
Your eyes flit to the white pastry box in your hand, and part of you doesn’t want to say it outloud for fear of sounding like a Girl Scout, but lying isn’t going to get you anywhere, so you admit with an embarrassed sigh.
“Cookies.”
The man snorts. “You really have cookies in that box?”
“Yes.” Can he hear the humiliation in your voice? Are you about to get mugged for a few cookies? Fuck.
“I can give you a few in exchange for letting me in? They’re homemade.”
You would not cut it as a criminal. Bribing with cookies, what's next? Sending death threats on Hello Kitty stationery.
There is a beat of silence, then the sliding peephole slams shut.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!
The door opens with a cold metallic creak. There stands the guardian of the door. Six foot something and built like a brick shithouse covered head to toe in tattoos. The tattoos themselves aren’t intimidating; everyone has them nowadays, but the scowl he wore on his scarred lip was enough to have you packing it in and going home.
“Choc chip?” he asks, eyes trained on the box in your hand.
You nod, eyes wide at his interest in the sweets.
“Fine, come in,” The man tilts his head in a gesture to welcome you in. “Leave some on the counter.”
You don’t hesitate to follow his direction, racing into the building before the door slams closed behind you. The hallway is dim and damp, filled with cardboard and wooden crates stacked along the walls. High ceilings with exposed piping and hanging fluorescents create an industrial sky overhead, the ominous space above giving you a nice preview as to what you might be looking at as you spend the remainder of your life chained up down here if the night goes awry. The smell is unpleasant, with mildew and mould growing along every available surface, but what did you expect a dirty, unoccupied building to smell like?
“Where’s the…?” You turn to ask about the counter, but the man has disappeared. The door slides shut, caging you in from the outside world, from an escape if need be.
This is the end. You’re gonna die, and no one will find your body, and it’ll be your fault.
Your footsteps are muted thuds on the dusty concrete as you wander further into the building, carefully inspecting each door before passing on. Unease does not loosen its grip on your insides; it makes its home tucked underneath your ribs, digging and twisting its way deeper until it weaves itself into the very fibres of your muscles.
“Hello?” Your voice echoes shrill in the darkness beyond, its shadows a foreboding warning against the light at your back. Is this you finally stepping away from the glow of goodness and life, turning your back on all you knew in favour of a new life in the shadows? The heartbreak and guilt urging you forward towards a life away from the sun, the heroes that lit up the streets and cultivated a good and just world. That blind hope had been stripped from you in the weeks that followed Touya’s death, and no amount of good deeds from the Number Two and his fellow coworkers could reignite that spark within you.
You venture deeper, finding the door to an empty room and the brick wall at the end of the hall. There had been no counter for you to place your offering on, no sign of your villain, no sign of anything apart from the ominous shriek of the cicadas outside. Sweat begins to bead on your forehead, the stagnant heat suffocating. A passageway opens to your right, an open door to a room that had initially been concealed by the darkness of the hall. It's stuffier, smaller, and the smell of mildew is so overpowering that you cover your nose with the sleeve of your shirt. It is too hot to wear long sleeves, but there was no telling what tonight might have brought, so you opted for a light long sleeve shirt and jeans, comfortable enough to run away in but enough cover along your skin to avoid any knicks and scrapes.
Footsteps shuffle within the hall. Heavy thumping steps echo in the dark, and you panic. Breath catches in your throat as your stomach tightens. Adrenaline courses through you, hot and fast, blood pumping through your body too quickly for your brain to keep up, your vision swims for a quick second, and you have to remind yourself to breathe, to take that heavy breath and fill your lungs with oxygen and
Make. A .Decision.
Hide and avoid any interaction with the villain and never get the answers you have risked your life; putting an end to the obsession with Touya and finally move on, or come face to face with your choices and get some answers. Logic and emotion wage a war within you, each tugging your heart side to side. You have longed too long for the answers surrounding Touya and his demise, and even if you don’t make it out alive tonight, if you end up six feet under or chained in a basement, if you were given answers, then it would be worth it. You take a step back, bracing yourself to turn and face the villain, blood whooshing in your ears and pounding in your throat, and slam straight into another body.
A scream escapes against your better judgment, the box in your hands clattering to the floor, but you pay it no mind as you twist on your heel and back up until you are flush with the wall.
“We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this.” A familiar voice croons.
Dabi.
The villain stands in the entryway, backlit in the white glow of the hall. He is taller than you remember, broader shoulders that take up most of the space in the frame, but you still can’t see his face, shadows keeping close around him.
You remember that night very clearly. The timbre of his voice, the feel of his fingers digging into your skin, that distinct scent of sweetness that cut through the beer and cigarettes, but not his face. You hadn’t seen him in person, only through the news or photos, but that night, he had remained in the shadows as he does now.
A light above flickers to life, the dim gold glow fills the room in a blinding haze, and finally, months after your first meeting, you can gaze upon the villain, live and in the flesh.
The pictures do not do him justice. Aside from the obvious horror of his scarred skin, there is a man who looks more human than anything else. Slender lines make up his features, a sharp jaw and angular nose, the bridge slightly off centre due to one too many blows to the face, cheeks unusually round as his full lips are curled up in a soft smile, and the eyes, those familiar blue eyes watching your every move, trying to guage a reaction before you can have the chance to process it.
Your chest heats. The crush you had had on him long ago rekindled somewhere deep within you.
“Hi.” The greeting is breathy, nervous for another reason now, but still anxious nonetheless.
“Hey.” Dabi mimics the softness of your greeting.
It is entirely out of character for someone so villainous, he who is capable of mass destruction, to greet you the way you would greet an old friend. Who is this man, and how is he the same person on your television screen?
“I was told you brought me cookies?” The question has you scrambling, looking at your feet for the box, only to find it halfway across the room, barely at his feet.
There is no thought in your head as you lung for the sweets. The box is crinkled at one side, a bit dusty on the bottom, but otherwise intact. It is a stupid bargaining chip, something extra on top of your money and possible indenture, in hopes of sweetening the deal. Literally. You take a peek inside, finding all the cookies safe and sound, albeit jostled around, but no dirt or grime.
“Yes, I did. It’s stupid, but I-” the words die on your tongue as soft fingers brush against the back of your hand.
Your head snaps up to find Dabi towering over you, smile still soft and inviting. Your heart quickens.
“I don’t think it’s stupid. I think it’s smart, you’ve got a bargaining chip, and who can say no to cookies?”
Despite your pounding heart and electricity pulsing through every fibre of your being, you still, as the villain trails his fingers over your skin. A coincidence, nothing more, but your cheeks begin to burn at the gentleness of the act. Dabi’s eyes do not leave you, gaze intent as you allow him to pull the box from your grasp, and only when you are free of your package, do you step back to create distance once again, the heat of his body dissipating.
His attention shifts to the baked goods. There is too much care in the way he opened the box, too much tenderness as he slips his finger beneath the white cardboard to flip open the lid. You can’t pull your gaze from him as he deliberates. The furrow of his brow, the narrowing of his eyes, the slight frown that pulls his lips down as he decides. You’ve seen that expression before; you know that face, have been the reason for that face.
“Did you make those?” Dabi’s question pulls you from your musings, and you look up to find him biting into the biggest of the batch.
Your fingers curl into a fist, nails digging into your palm to pull you back to the present. The action does not go unnoticed by your companion.
“Yes, I made them this morning, it’s just something I do when I'm nervous.”
While the biscuits are a part of your bargaining, it is not a lie that you had baked them as a coping mechanism. It had been something you’d done for years, since the day you had lost your friend. Whenever you were overwhelmed or anxious or sad, the kitchen was where you found peace. Methodical recipes kept your mind from wandering, too preoccupied with following the steps to prevent disaster. Your therapist had warned against using baking as a way to further feed your anxieties, that is was meant to be something fun and happy and that even if an accident did happen it was not the end of the world and you could always start again, but the last time an accident did happen it was the end of the world and you couldn’t control that or had to steps on how to get over it but with baking it was all there nice and neat and easy to follow.
“You were nervous?” a hint of a smirk as he takes another bite. “It’s just little ol’ me, nothing to be nervous about.”
He knows that’s a lie. Dabi is one of the major players in the League of Villains, capable of destruction no one had seen before, yet here he is, indulging in a triple chocolate chip cookie as if he weren’t one of Tokyo’s most wanted.
“You know who you are, of course, I’d be nervous.”
Dabi nods thoughtfully, as if he were mulling over your words before placing the box back on the floor and kicking it over to you with a steel-capped boot, stopping at your feet just as he begins to speak.
“So, pretty girl, what can I do for you?” tone casual, pet name rolling off his tongue effortlessly. “You’ve gone through all this trouble to what?”
He nods at the box, inviting you to grab a treat and share with him as if you were two old friends catching up over coffee. The absurdity of the situation does not escape you as you give in to his request and fish out a biscuit. You have no intention of eating it, your stomach is too much of a wreck that you don't think anything you eat will stay in your stomach for long. When you stand back up, crumbly sweet between your fingers, you find him staring with a furrowed brow, lips twitching upward once before he takes another bite, tongue following the line of his bottom lip to swipe at any crumbs left behind.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
“Talk about what, angel? About the league?” Another bite of the dessert, eyes still trained on you. “ About you? Me?”
“About you.”
“Me? Well, don’t I feel special.” he drawls, voice rough and ragged. “We can talk about me, but first, I want to ask you something.”
You're apprehensive but agree.
He takes the final bite of his dessert before asking. “How long did it take you to find me?”
The question seems to be genuine. His interest in his exclusivity is less about his ego and more about safety risks.
Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth as you count the weeks since your first encounter, tallying days and months before finally landing on the answer.
“Four months and two weeks, but it was difficult to get any information on it in the beginning.”
It had been an irrationally long time to spend on something so ridiculous, feeling like a crazed fan hunting down the League’s last known location in hopes of catching wind of Dabi, but you have questions that demand answers.
Dabi grins, canines flashing in the low light.
“So, you’ve spent almost five months thinking about me?” It's posed as a question but feels more like a jab, a taunt at your dedication to finding him.
“Yes. And now I’ve answered two of your questions, can I ask one?”
Dabi nods, holding his hand out in a gesture for you to begin your interrogation.
“I know you already said you don’t know the guy I mentioned when I first met you and I haven’t mentioned him to anyone again just like you asked, and I figured with you being a villain, you might have connections that I don’t have and you can access more information as to what happened to him and I promise that I can pay. I’ll pay whatever you want, but I don’t really have that much. I’ll pay in food, and that’s kinda why I brought some cookies to show that I can bake, but that will only be a small amount because I’m good for a couple thousand-“ you reach into your back pocket to fish out your wallet. “I promise, I won't ever mention this to anyone, but I just really need your help, Dabi.”
The juxtaposition of your pastel purple Kuromi wallet holding thousands of dollars as payment for a villain’s services almost makes you laugh, but the lack of recognition from your companion causes you to pocket the purse.
Dabi’s stare is unamused as he chews on the inside of his cheek, unpacking all the information you had just thrown at him.
“Why is this guy so important to you? You’re willing to blow thousands on some dead guy, not to mention you’ve risked your life coming here, so why is he so special?”
Your fingers curl into a fist, pressing your nails into your palm a few times before releasing the tension in your muscles. A habit long since formed and one you had been unable to break.
“He’s just someone I knew from when I was a kid.” You bite at the flesh of your lip, ripping off chunks as the nerves continue to build.
“And?” Dabi presses.
“There is no and.”
“You’re lying,” he interjects.
“I am not!”
Your cheeks heat.
“What’s the real reason you’re looking for answers? There’s something else.”
Dabi begins to close the gap between the two of you, each step pressing on your chest harder and harder. The room grows quiet, the only sound his heavy boots on the concrete floor, before it stops, and he is a foot from you. The heat of his presence wraps around you, the temperature of your skin rising.
“No other reason, I just need to know.” Another lie. “Why does it even matter to you?”
Iron fills your mouth as you continue to assault the inside of your lip.
“I’ve gotta make sure that you’re not out here for nefarious reasons. Can’t go getting into trouble now, can we, pretty girl?” Dabi smirked.
You scoff. “You can’t be getting into trouble? Isn’t that your whole schtick?”
Dabi barks out a laugh at your brazenness, and for a moment, you're worried you might have overstepped.
“That is very true,” Air huffs through his nose in a laugh. “But I need to know why I might be putting myself on the line, sweetheart. The information you want is locked up by some pretty powerful people, and I can’t go making a scene just because.”
The pet names are starting to grate on you. Not because you had them but because each one had a barb of lightning shooting through your stomach, heating you from within.
“Look, Dabi,” His name is a reminder to yourself to keep it together.
“Yes?” boredom flashes across his features at your tone.
You take in a deep breath, smothering the fire in your chest and the tears that always spill each time you talk about Touya.
Truth or lie?
So far, the lies have been getting you nowhere, so fuck it.
“I lost my best friend, and his death was suspicious, and I need to know what happened afterwards, how they covered it up and got away with it all.”
“You can’t just go to the police for that?” More disinterest, his smirk falling flat.
“I’ve tried, trust me. No one knows anything, or maybe they do, and they don't want to share. I’ve looked and looked and nothing. I’m going insane, and I need to know what really happened that day because…” your throat begins to tighten as tears spill over your cheeks. “I never got to say goodbye, and I loved him and I just…I need to close this chapter because I’m stuck and I can’t move on.”
Dabi stares at you, eyes darting over your face, then your clenched fists, then back to meet your eyes.
“Please. I promise I won’t tell anyone you helped me, and you’ll never see me again if you help me with this. I’m begging you.” You were two seconds away from dropping to your knees to prove your sincerity.
“You made those?”
You follow the line of his finger to the cookie still between your fingers. What? Your headspins at the disregard for your heartfelt plea. You know villains are cruel and manipulative, but what the fuck!
“Yes,” you sniffle and wipe your face with the sleeve of your shirt, trying to gather some semblance of self-respect.
“Your mum’s cookies are better.” Dabi declares, catching your stare.
Blue fire blazes in his eyes.
You're what? Your mum?
“What?”
Dabi shrugs, whirling on his heels away from you. “I’m sorry, but her cookies will always be the best.”
Your jaw slackens as you stare at the man before you.
“My mother?”
“Yes. Your mum made way better cookies, and it’s not for lack of trying. Yours are really good, but they’ll never beat your mum's.”
Is he fucking with you? Is this some elaborate psychological warfare that he enacted on all his victims? Are you about to die? How does he know about your mother’s cookies?
Hot tears begin to spill once again.
“Aww, don’t get upset, Chihiro. I'm just being honest.”
The nickname rattles your soul.
Touya.
Before you can register that you are moving, you have crossed the space between your bodies and swung at the villain.
Your clenched fist collides with his jaw, surprising him out of his teasing. Pain ricochets through your hand, but you don’t have time to pull away as arms wrap around your waist and hold you against the villain. The world tilts, and you're being pulled down, knees breaking the fall into hard asphalt, bones shrieking as pain flares up your legs. Braced against his chest, thighs bracketing his hips, you wait for impact, face contorting in anticipation, but pain never comes. There is no blaze of blue or punch back, just rough hands gripping the fat of your hips as wide eyes stare up at you.
Fingers reach out to grip his cheeks, skin rough beneath soft flesh, and begin to squeeze.
“Who the fuck are you? Why do you know that name?” you utter the same questions he had seethed at you all those months ago. “I’m not playing your games, you sick fuck, who are you”?
Dabi blinks, bottom lip quivering between your fingers.
“Answer me. Who are you?” you screech, all composure having slipped the second he spoke that nickname.
The villain does not answer, too engrossed in the hell that has been unleashed over him. A banshee set free from the confines of your skin, feral and yielding under emotions too great for a human psyche. Having no agency within your own body, you feel your hand slip down the column on his throat, fingers nestling at the base and squeezing. Blood pulses beneath your fingers, in time with your own heart. The instinct to extinguish the imposter below is fueling your every move.
Foreign fingers wrap around your wrist, pushing your hand up and away from the delicate skin of Dabi’s throat, and before you can adjust and strike again, you are being flipped. The world shifts suddenly, and your back slams into the hard concrete, air wooshing from your lungs with a jagged huff. Dabi sits above you, weight pressed firmly over your hips, inhibiting any chance of getting out from beneath him. Muscular thighs cage you in, the hand that had pulled you from his windpipe now holding yours above your head while the other smooths down your cheek.
You try to fight, to wrench your hands free of his grasp, throw him off your body, but he is too heavy, too strong, too much for you to thrash against. Teeth snap and gnash for any purchase of skin, but the man has done this too many times before and knows the tactics of desperate and trapped animals. That is all you are. A trapped animal with no way of escape. There will always be something, whether it be the snap of a bear trap or the maw of a predator. You should have seen it coming. There is no way a fox would have won against a wolf, despite sneaky tactics to bribe and persuade; the wolf is bigger, stronger and will always win. Your cries echo through the abandoned warehouse, leaving your lungs aching for breath, but if you are to die, you will not go down without a fight.
“Get off me,” you howl, body jerking against the villain, but you are getting tired, the pounding heart slowing as the adrenaline wears off.
“Calm down.” Dabi commands, his weight shifting as he sits heavier above you and a hand is brought to your shoulder, thumb gliding to sit in the dip of your collarbones. The pressure against your throat sends panic flooding through in ice-hot zaps.
“I hate you so much.” You seethe, teeth clenched as you breathe in. “I fucking hate you.”
“I know.”
Familiar blue eyes bore into yours, and you know it’s him. Have known since that moment within the alleyway, your soul knowing his before your eyes even landed on him, but it is one thing to believe he is alive, but have your reality contradict it all with undeniable proof that he is dead, and to have Touya before you, whole and breathing. The nickname, only the two of you know, thrown out so casually, the features that make up Touya’s face an inch away, the hum of his soul calling out to yours. It is Touya, always has been.
“You left me.” You wail. “You left me there, all alone.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” Touya begins to apologise, pressure on your throat shifting onto your sternum, fingers brushing against exposed collarbones. “I’m sorry,” the apology repeated over and over again.
Your chest heaves as air is gulped down. Despite the dirt and dust sticking to your lungs, for the first time in a year, it feels as if you are getting enough air, that your chest is no longer tight with the pressure of withheld oxygen, that you are no longer drowning. The weight of guilt no longer sits heavily on your shoulders, keeping you trapped beneath that stream in Sokota Peak. You can breathe without the guilt of it all. Another breath has your pounding heart calming, the roaring of your blood subsiding until it is nothing but a faint background hum in the silence of the empty warehouse.
Touya’s hands loosen at your wrists, testing the limits of your rage, but when you make no move to strike him again, he lets go entirely and pulls back to sit heavily on your hips.
Above you sits the boy you had lost all those years ago. The same eyes and smile, the crinkle in his brow as his mouth turns down, blue eyes simmering with repressed sadness. There is no longer a villain before you. Dabi does not exist. The boy above you is Touya. Your Touya.
You knew it. You knew it was him all along.
“Is it really you?” The question is hoarse, broken from the sobs that are still threatening to spill over. “Don’t bullshit me.”
He huffs a laugh.
“If I answer, you need to promise to keep it a secret,” he whispers, and for a moment, you are both kids hiding in the garden of his family home.
Your heart begins to pound again, eyes blurring and limbs going staticky, but you lift your hand and hold out your pinkie.
“Promise.”
Touya interlocks his finger with yours.
The tears fall, hot and fat, over your cheeks as you smile up at your best friend.
“Hi, Touya.”
“Hi.” He mirrors your smile. “I missed you.”
Those three words have you wrapping your arms around his waist to pull his body down against yours in a bone-crushing hug. Touya’s laugh is breathless as you squeeze with all your might, years of unrequited love and pain pouring out of you and into him. His arm loops around the back of your neck, unable to hold you in any other way, and hugs you back just as hard. Your face is buried in his chest, the scent on him overwhelming, and some part of you searches for the familiar smell, the one from long ago, but it has been too many years. Gone is the boyish smell of sea salt and chocolate, the faint hint of fabric softener that lingered in all his clothes and instead, it's menthol and smoke and something sweet that you still can’t place.
You pull away, face inches from his, and stare up at him. Hidden beneath black hair and scarred skin is the same boy you had known. With the same curve of his cheeks as he smiles, a crinkle in his nose as he laughs, the glint in his eyes as he stares at you. He had been here this whole time, just out of your grasp and part of you is angry, furious that he did not come home, come back and see you to tell you he is okay, but a bigger part of you can’t hold it against him, can’t hold anything other than love in your heart for your best friend.
“Did you mean it?” Touya whispers, fingers trailing over your cheek to wipe the tears sticking to your skin.
“Mean what?”
“That you loved me?”
A sob leaves you involuntarily.
He is closer than anyone has been in a long time, closer than you thought he’d ever be, and yet it was still not enough. Reaching up, you palm his cheeks, thumbs brushing over scarred skin.
You nod, not trusting your voice in that moment. Touya sniffles, his chest heaving with withheld sobs.
“I think I still do.” It's a broken whisper, and you wonder if he would even hear. It’s silly to think that after all these years, you would still hold a torch for someone long gone, but there was nowhere else for that love to go, and so it lay dormant.
Touya leans forward, brushing his nose against yours. Heat fills your body as his lips ghost over yours, the hand on your cheek slipping into your hair.
“Can I kiss you?”
Your answer is a subtle graze of your lips over his; permission in the form of a gentle kiss, and Touya takes this as his go-ahead. Mouth soft as he slots his lips over yours, hesitant and careful as though you might disappear if he presses any harder. He pulls back, lips set in a soft frown.
“What is it?” Panic begins to rise in your throat, but a hand on your cheek stills it.
“I’m sorry I never got to kiss you before.” Regret tugs on his mouth, and before he has another chance to feel anything else, you press up, brushing your lips over his again. This kiss is harsher, fuelled by something more than a lost love, and as you tangle your fingers in his hair, you feel Touya push harder against your body. His tongue brushes against your bottom lip, testing the limits set before him; there are none. Your elation at having finally found Touya, coupled with the adrenaline and whatever the fuck attraction you had to Dabi, has you fisting his shirt in your free hand. Touya allows the full weight of himself to rest against your hips, pinning you beneath. Your mouth opens wider beneath his, his tongue sliding over your bottom lip before dipping past your teeth. Menthol and chocolate fill your senses, a strangely intoxicating mix that has your head spinning. Hands splay out against the small of your back, and you're being hoisted forward and up until you are firmly seated into his lap, mouth attached to your neck as you huff through the spinning in your head. Teeth scrape over skin, finding purchase on the thin flesh beneath your jaw, sending heat sweeping through your entire body, lighting every nerve ending. Your head swims, and for a moment, there is not enough oxygen being fed into your brain; the dizziness in your head is not just blatant want but very real oxygen deprivation. You pull back, hands on his shoulders to allow room to breathe.
“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Touya asks, breathlessly, his eyes frantically searching your face for any telltale signs.
Your chest constricts at his concern. The same sweet and caring boy you fell in love with all those years ago.
“I’m okay,” you breathe, gulping down air to cool your steaming blood. “I just need a second, otherwise I might pass out.”
Touya is quick to move, laying you flat back on the floor and untangling his limbs from yours. Propped up on an elbow, he watches as you take deep breaths, eyes following the rise and fall of your chest. The ceiling above you spins, the smell not helping your swirling vision, but you do your best to focus on your breath, hand on your lower belly guiding each inhale. It’s a few moments before the world returns to normal, and when you finally turn back, terror grips you. Unable to take your eyes away from the ceiling for fear that all that had happened within the last moment was a dream, that you were at the bottom of a well or in some villain's torture room, and Touya is not beside you.
“Chihiro?”
Touya’s soft voice has you whipping your head to him, a jagged exhale leaving you as you reach up to stroke his cheek.
Real. So very real.
“You okay?”
You follow the line of his scarred skin with the tip of your index finger, committing the feel of him to memory. “I just missed you.”
Miss does not begin to cover the ache in your chest at his absence.
A frown and wobble of his bottom lip has your heart aching. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. You don’t need to apologise. I just missed you.” Fingers intertwine with yours and are held up to his lips in a kiss.
“I never forgot about you,” you confess.
Touya’s eyebrows knit together in an expression you don’t know, and for a moment, you panic, worried you had crossed a line that you didn’t know existed.
“I never stopped thinking about you,” he admits, calming the unease that filled you a moment ago.
“Really?” You want to smile, but the frown holds place. It’s bittersweet, a lost love found, yet so much time has passed, so much had been missed out on, but with those words, you are no longer an adult woman sitting in a dirty and dusty warehouse; you are fifteen and hearing your crush confess words you had been so desperately wishing to be spoken.
“Never for a single second,” Touya shuffles closer, reminiscent of the nights you’d spend stargazing in his yard, coming in close to whisper secrets that could not be heard by another living soul. “I never wanted to forget you.”
Heat fills the small space between your bodies, and you don’t know if it's his quirk or your own elevated body temperature, but it's nice, warm.
“When I saw you in the alley, I panicked. I wanted to call out to you, but I knew I couldn’t, but then you said my name, you knew it was me, and all I wanted to do was hug you and never let go, but I…” Touya sniffles and squeezes his eyes shut to hold back the tears welling there. “I’m sorry, I never wanted to hurt you like this. There’s just so much that has happened and so much to explain, and I will one day, I promise.”
Thumbs slide over his cheeks to wipe away the tears that fall free. “I missed you so much, I never stopped watching you and making sure you were okay, and I know how fucked up that sounds, but I needed to know you were doing okay.”
Touya continues to explain, your heart squeezing at each confession.
“I loved you so much, and I think, I know I still do, but I need you to know that I’m sorry for everything I put you through, and I get it if you hate me, I would too. Please know that I am sorry.”
“Touya,” his name stops his rambling, his teary eyes set on you. You take a moment to push him back and climb over him, settling yourself on his hips the way he had done moments ago. With hands braced on his chest, you lean forward, touching your forehead to his, a kiss against his swollen lips.
“I don’t hate you, I never could.”
“Even after everything?” Trepidation simmers in his eyes. “I’m not the person I used to be.”
You nod, hands sliding up to rest against the sides of his neck. “I know, and neither am I. So do you hate me?”
Touya shakes his head, fingers hooking onto the belt loops of your pants. “It’s not the same.”
“I think it’s the same. We’ve both grown and changed, some of us more than others, but I’m not the same person I was when we were kids.”
“We're both different now, Touya, but I’ve finally found you, and whether it's as Touya or Dabi or whatever, I’m not letting you go ever again. I will be by yourside until you push me away, and even then, you’re gonna have to push pretty hard to get rid of me because I’m not living another second without you.”
Touya’s frown quivers, and despite his best efforts, tears begin to slip free, but you’re quick to lean in and wipe them away.
“Who’s crying now, Chihiro?” You tease, nipping at his top lip.
The comeback is muffled by your mouth, but Touya has you flipped over, his knee slotting between yours and his hands on either side of your head. The kiss deepens, a sigh leaving you as you feel the weight of his body press against yours.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers against your mouth, “You were always pretty, but seeing you now, fuck, I can’t believe it’s you.” Kisses are pressed to your cheek, then jaw, before finally landing on your throat.
A huffed laugh leaves you as you slip your hands up and under his shirt, trailing the expanse of his back, skin rough beneath your fingers. You will ask about wounds later, but in this moment, right now on the floor of some dingy warehouse, you need him within your skin. As close as you are right now, it is not enough. Heat pools in your lower stomach, the ache between your legs reappearing.
“I did always have a thing for Dabi,” the confession has Touya stilling against the curve of your shoulder. “There was something about him that just had me blushing every time I saw him.”
“Oh yeah?” his mouth moves against your skin, teeth scraping and biting.
You hiss as he bites, the sting sending shivers through you.
“Hmm. It was just the way he walked and carried himself, like he was so sure who he was. And that smile, those teeth, god just made me all warm inside.” You continue, beginning to list all the things that made the villain so unreasonably attractive.
“My teeth?” Touya pulls back, confusion furrowing his brow.
You nod.
“Yeah, theyre just so perfect and sharp. You look like you bite really well.”
Touya stares at you incredulously, unable to comprehend whether you were complimenting him.
“You’re still so weird.” his laugh is the same, still boyish and cute. His hands poke at your sides, squeezing the fat of your hips.
“What? Don’t think my teeth look good? You don’t want me to bite you?” You tease, gripping his face between your palms and squeezing them together.
Touya shakes free, tucking his chin into your shoulder, his mouth against the shell of your ear. “I want you to bite me, kiss me, do whatever you want to me.” Teeth graze over your lobe before his mouth is back on your throat, kissing the length of your neck.
His name is a soft moan, fingers lacing themselves through his hair as he continues up to kiss the length of your jaw, then cheeks, and finally your mouth.
“I can’t believe I have you here”, the confession is whispered, and it seems as if it is more to himself than to you. Touya’s hands begin to slide up your sides, never pushing the boundaries, but there is a hunger in his hands, a heat within him that keeps his fingers shaking.
“Have you thought about it a lot?” The question slips from you in a breathy whine, his tongue laving over your bottom lip.
Touya huffs a laugh and pulls back, adoration warming his gaze. “This..” his eyes flick down to your heaving chest, then back to your face. “Or you?” you swear, a blush dusts his cheeks.
“Both?” You shrug, nails digging into his back, causing a shiver to run through him. He arches into the touch, his knee shifting up higher to slot closer against your clothed core.
Almost as if embarrassed, Touya ducks his head again, mouth brushing against your collarbone and only when you can’t see the bright red of his cheeks, does he admit to his daydreams.
“Whenever I’d see you, it took everythin in me to not walk up to you. All I wanted to do was walk right up to you and kiss you and tell you how much I missed you. I thought about how i’d do it, maybe in a note at your door with flowers or just walking up to you and introducing myself and then eventually telling you but I couldn’t put that on you, didn’t want you involved with me or the league, It’s not a life I wanted for you so I just stayed away.” he lifts his head from your chest. “You deserve so much more than me, Chihiro. There was, is, nothing I can offer you as much as I want to keep you with me forever, I can’t do that to you.”
Tears begin to well in your eyes. “Are you dumping me before we even get the chance to-”
“No, sweetheart! No.” Touya abandons your sides in exchange for palm your cheeks. “I’m just not going to ask you to give up your life to stay with me.”
“And what if I want to stay with you?” you proposed, blinking back the tears clouding your vision.
“I would fight you on it, but I don’t think I could ever say no to you,” Touya admits defeat, pressing his forehead to yours. “How are you still making me so weak all these years later?”
“Still?”
“Ohh please, you remember how you would look at me, and I’d buy you whatever candy you wanted, or whenever you wanted to watch one of your weird movies, I’d say yes.”
That is true. Touya had been putty in your hands, but you always thought it was cause he was a good friend, never that he had a crush on you that whole time.
You giggle. “Even after all these years, you still have a crush on me.”
Touya nips at your bottom lip. “It’s more than a crush, pretty girl.” Another kiss this time to your nose. “So much more than crush.”
Taking the moment of stillness, you flip over again, seating yourself over his hips once again. His hands are quick to grab you, kneading the meat of your thighs as you shuffle closer, dropping more of your weight into him.
“How much more than crush?” you probe, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, delighting in the heat and firmness beneath your hips.
“I would burn this whole world to the ground if you asked me to.”
Rough hands make their way under your shirt, tracing the line of your spine.
“You already do that. What else?” Your hands brace against his chest, squeezing the meat of his pectorals.
“I’d leave the league, leave it all and run away with you and just live somewhere quiet, have a nice house, coupla kids if you wanted, whatever you want sweetheart, I’d give it to you.” Sincerity fills every word, a promise not yet asked but willing to be done.
Your heart constricts, chest aching at the amount of devotion offered up to you as if you were something more than a girl from his childhood, a celestial being dropped into his lap. Desire spreads in your stomach, slick beginning to pool in your panties.
You lean forward, teeth now at his throat. “And what if I want something now?” pressing open-mouthed kisses against scarred skin, tongue laving over each scarp of teeth, Touya’s breathing becomes ragged.
“What’s that?” He is trying so hard to keep his cool, to keep the composure of the big bad villain, but each roll of your hips against his has his control slipping. You continue to grind, feeling him grow thicker, harder beneath, and you can only imagine what he’d look like, a thought that had plagued you for far too long, well, about Dabi, but they are the same.
“I want you to fuck me.”
Touya stills, his hands coming up to pull you away from his neck, cheeks held in his palms. Cerulean eyes bore into yours. “I’m not gonna fuck you.”
Your face falls, lips turning into a pout. This is not where you thought it was going. With a thumb, Touya smooths over the furrow in your brow. “I don't want to fuck you on some dirty floor.” He tugs on your bottom lip with his thumb, enjoying the way you lean into his hand at your chin.
“What if I want to be fucked on a dirty floor?” You raise a brow and notice the twitch in his pants.
Touya inhales, deep and pained. “I’m not doing that. I’m not going to have our first time be in some warehouse. You deserve a bed, and candles, and roses.”
You can’t help the grin that grows. “You really like me, don't you?”
Touya mirrors you, gripping your face in his hands once more and pulling you to him. “You have no idea.”
Touya: Aged twenty-seven
BONUS:
“See. Candles, roses, a bed.” Touya announces as you step into your bedroom, the small space you pay an exorbitantly high rent for is completely covered in candles and rose bouquets. The bed had been made up, your pink sheets all washed and fluffed, the scent of your cherry blossom washing powder wafting through the room. Candles line every available surface, the warm glow flickering in the dark room.
You turn to find Touya leaning against the doorframe, proudly smirking.
He had picked you up after your shift, waiting for you in the alleyway for fear of having you aligned with Dabi, and took the long way home, past the river and through the gardens, just to spend more time together as if you didn’t spend every waking second glued to one another. He made no mention of the surprise waiting for you at home, did nothing to make you think that tonight was going to be anything but a usual night in. Your roommate had moved out, the spare room that was a study turned bedroom, now turned back into a study for you and your books.
“When did you do this?” Your voice is small, turning back to face the room. God, this would have cost a fortune, or did he steal it?
“While you were at work,” Touya answers. “I paid for everything. Not a single thing was stolen.”
You turn back around, eyes brimming with tears, and a happy frown etched into your mouth. Touya’s smirk falters.
“What? Too much?”
“I can’t believe you did this for me.” The tears overflow, sliding down your cheeks.
Touya rushes forward, immediately wrapping you in his arms, hand cradling the back of your head. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t cry. I can take them all back.”
“No, dummy! Don’t you dare; these are happy tears.” You sniffle against his shirt, unable to stop the tears from flowing. “No one has ever done this for me, and I just- I can’t believe it.”
You’re being pulled towards the bed, then down and landing with a huff onto Touya as he continues to cradle you, cooing with each stroke of your hair. It doesn’t take long for you to stop your sobbing, the overwhelming love of the gesture consuming you whole for a moment, but when your breathing evens out and your eyes dry, you finally look up to find Touya watching you intently.
“You okay, angel?” his thumb strokes over your cheek. You like that he kept up with the petnames, that they are more a part of Touya than Dabi.
You nod. “Just wasn’t expecting something so sweet.” Fingers begin to trace the lines across his sides.
“I told you, a bed, roses and candles,” Touya smirks again, ducking his head to press a kiss to your forehead. “Wanted to make it special, y’know.”
Fresh tears begin to prick at your eyes, but you're quick to wipe them away.
“You know what, I think calling you Chihiro was the smartest thing I've ever come up with.” He teases, poking at your ribs.
“I'm an emotional person, sue me,” you sniff again, wiping at your nose. “Can’t even cry within the sanctity of my own home, Dabi.”
“Hey! It’s Touya to you!” he corrects, pinching at your hips. “Spent how many years hunting me down, and now you’re gonna call me by my fake name.” Touya shakes his head, faux annoyance in his tone.
“You spent just as many years stalking me!” The retort is quick.
“Years well spent. Look how pretty you are, and now you’re mine, not gonna let ya leave.” he wraps his arms around you, caging you in.
“Not planning on it, Touya,” you amend, slipping your arms around his waist to hold him tight.
“Glad to hear that, Chihiro.” A kiss is pressed to your hairline.
“Ohh fuck you.”
“Oh, I plan on it.” Touya grins. “That’s what the bed and roses are for.”
Imagine Dabi taking his time bathing you thoroughly. “As much as I love to see you dripping in my cum… I love even more to see you comfortable.” He tells you after cumming on you with an overly satisfied smile on his face, both still catching your breath when Dabi already has you in his strong arms, carrying you to the bathroom, holding you tightly against his heaving chest as he turns on the faucet and waits for the water to heat up.
“You don’t have to do this-...”
He turns to look at you and those bright blue eyes stare almost offended.
“Shut up it’s fine,” he breaths raggedly, legs jolting up in desperation to make you move on top of him, greedily.
You press against him, arms wrapping about his frame, ignoring his sweltering skin. You bite your lip and whimper excitedly when you feel him bow his head against your shoulder and pant heavily against the skin there.
"Besides, this is just a break... I still have plans for you, the night is young, babygirl."
His deep, husky voice, numbing and seductive, beats in your chest making your heart stutter to keep up.
The mere memory of every slam of your hips down onto him, and every one of his thrusts up into you in turn, making the villain ache with want.
“Now-” he purrs out against your ear, body seizing in warning. Fingers clenched into fists, so hard that the joints pop in protest with how much he must refrain himself to not taking you right there and then. "Now, get in the tub before I change my damn mind."
WARNINGS. hurt/comfort, fluff, scars, mentions of violence and blood, mentioned murder if you squint
SYNOPSIS. dabi struggles with a strange longing for softness and peace that feels impossible to reach for someone like him. in a tender moment, you offer him a fragile spark of hope and comfort.
LENGTH. 1.987 words
MASTERLIST
For the longest time, Dabi wanted to be soft.
It's strange, craving to be known, to be seen despite the scars littering his body — the desire for someone to strip away the layers of his unbridled rage and wrap their fingers around his very core, dig their nails into the tender flesh until every gruesome feeling he's ever buried in the darkest corner of his mind oozes out like blood from a fresh wound.
And look—
He tried to lose this longing, really. Dabi doesn't remember how many times he found himself wandering through the depths of the night, how many streets he walked down and how many corners he rounded without looking over his shoulder, hoping it would find someone else to haunt — and yet, it always returns like a lost dog.
On most days, it sits idly behind his eyes and watches through a curtain of cerulean blue. Those days are easy for him. They're quiet, almost placid and he barely takes notice of it, this dog he despises with every inch of his frail body until he sinks into the cold mattress he found in another abandoned building and tries to find some peace where none is left for people like him.
Sometimes though, his want lingers on the tip of his tongue and scratches on the inside of his cheeks, tears at the stitches holding his face together until tender flesh bursts open — barking, growling, begging to be let out.
Dabi only swallows harshly, clenches his jaw and grits his teeth until the endless tension turns into a dull ache climbing through his skull and settling behind his temples. The others notice he's quieter on those days, but none of them care enough to ask. He's glad they don't.
It gets worse in spring.
There's a certain kind of grief that comes with the first days of April, a sadness that mourns what could have been and what will never be as the sun breaks through the clouds and kisses his cheeks with a warmth that doesn't quite reach under his skin. Dabi turns his head, pulled out of his thoughts by the sound of your voice humming a familiar tune, and lets his gaze wander to your hands.
Nimble fingers twist the stems of a few flowers you picked and neatly weave them together before plucking another one and adding it to your collection. A cool breeze blows through his hair, tousling the strands that shadow his face even further as if to caress his head and sweep away the dreading feeling of sorrow that has begun to slip between his ribs and settle behind his sternum ever since the days started to get warmer.
His want unfurls in the cavity of his mouth. It paces behind his teeth, claws scraping the inside of his cheeks, whining for release. Dabi only bites his lip, sinks the edge of his canines into the supple flesh until he draws blood and senses the familiar coppery taste on the tip of his tongue.
Nonetheless, his fingers twitch at his sides. It's an unconscious reaction to his want's growling, its restlessness trembling through his chest in violent rattles. He wants to reach out, to test if his hands could hold something as delicate as the crown you're making without crushing it, but he knows better.
This isn't meant for him — not this kind of peace.
The dog snaps at him from inside his own ribs, furious at the refusal, its longing teeth bared against the bars of his will.
He hates it, truly.
And yet, he still wants to be soft so desperately, wants to break himself apart like the flower you hold between your fingers, gently picking at the rose-tinged petals until they descend to the ground and scatter around your legs. You don't seem to notice the agony glinting behind his gaze, don't see the way his hand trembles when he reaches out to caress yours, grazing his fingers over your knuckles almost as if to trade places with the flowers and receive the feeling of your gentle touch instead.
Oh, but that's the problem, isn't it?
This softness he yearns for was never made for his body — like an ill-fitting shirt two sizes too small, it'll burst open at the seams and leave him exposed — every scar, every fracture, every jagged edge laid bare for the world to see.
Truth is, he has always been too hard, too rough, made of nothing but sharp edges meant to cut and violent anger meant to burn everything he touches.
"What's going on in your head?" It's a simple question, a whisper of care that carries away with the wind rustling the branches of the trees above his head. Undisturbed, your fingers continue their work, weaving the stem of each flower into the other one, twisting them into a circle of petals and leaves.
Instead of replying, Dabi lets the silence stretch between you, taut and fragile like a rubber band about to snap, until you finally decide to break it.
"You don't always have to be the fire, you know?" Your eyes leave the task at hand to meet his. There's a tenderness there, a subtle invitation for him to step outside the walls he's built around himself. "You don't have to hurt to feel alive."
A flicker crosses his face, something uncertain and unguarded at the same time — a crack in the mask he usually wears so well, a glimpse of what lies beneath his hatred that passes as quickly as it came. Instead, his gaze drops to the flower crown resting in your lap as if he's regarding the delicacy of each petal and how easy it would be to crush them — oh, how easy it would be to crush you — and lets out a bitter laugh.
"These hands—," he pulls his own back slightly, his scarred fingers curling in as if they could sear anything that gets too close. "You think they’re meant for holding something as soft as this?" Dabi gestures to the flowers with a rough flick of his wrist, but there’s a hollow resignation in his voice. “My hands are covered in blood, they're not meant to hold something gently."
"And yet, they never hurt me," you reply and lean closer, letting your fingers brush against his. The warmth in your touch is oddly comforting, sweet and caring and so undeniably contradictory to everything he embodies that it causes him to flinch, almost as if expecting you to recoil once you realize what kind of abomination he truly is.
You don't.
Instead, you lace your fingers with his. For a moment, you close your eyes and focus on the tension that runs through his tendons and deems it impossible to steady his hands, how he retreats and seems to brace for something that never comes.
You faintly wonder if it's rejection he fears or perhaps even worse, abandonment.
"You don't understand... this is all I've got." Dabi lets out a hollow chuckle, a bitter sound soaked in resentment, and gestures vaguely to his hands where discolored scar tissue meets ivory skin. The very same ones that have left scorched marks across entire cities, across people and across every attempt at kindness he's ever known. "I was made to burn. It’s all I know."
"No." It's a simple reply, two letters holding so much weight that he can feel his shoulders cave in under it, and yet, he can't bring himself to move, can't rip his gaze away from your face as you speak. "You weren’t made to burn. You were just… left in the flames too long."
The dog quiets to a mere whimper.
His chapped lips part, but no sound dares to escape, the trace of his unspoken words lingering on the tip of his tongue. No one has ever said something like that to him. No one has ever cared to see him as more than just a villain — as a product of his cruel past — and the realization stirs a long-forgotten ache in his chest, one he's spent years burying under layers of rage.
"Do you ever think about it?" you ask softly. "Who you might have been… if things were different?"
The question slices through him, raw and jagged. Defeated, he drops his head and allows his eyes to drift back to the flower crown still resting on your lap, the image of your fingers braiding delicate stems together with so much caution as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Sometimes," he admits quietly and pulls his hand out of your grasp, pressing it to his chest, right above his heart. "But it doesn’t matter, does it? None of that matters anymore. Every choice has been ripped from me and all that's left... all that's left is this hollow shell of who I could have been."
"That's not true," you argue softly, reaching up to cradle his cheek and tilt his head to meet his gaze. "You can't change the past, but you can still choose what you could be."
Abruptly, he goes quiet, eyes tracing over your face like he's trying to search for a lie, like he's afraid he'll find nothing more than betrayal etched into the fine lines of your features. "What would I be, then?" he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper, a quiet confession that seems to surprise even himself.
"Someone worth knowing," you reply, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of his white hair behind his pierced ear before placing the flower crown on top of his head. Your fingers trace over the soft curve of his cheekbone, not quite touching him, but hovering over his calloused skin.
For a fleeting second, Dabi tenses under the gentleness, but then he exhales, the tension melting away like frost in the morning sun. His shoulders slump, the weight of years spent bearing his anger and pain easing just a split fraction. As if on instinct, he tilts his head slightly and nuzzles his nose against the open palm of your hand, the flower crown slipping just slightly askew.
Tentatively, eyes flutter shut, and he leans into your touch as though it’s the only anchor in a storm he’s been battling for far too long. His breath hitches, a quiet sound that betrays the fortress of indifference he’s built around himself and despite his movements, the flower crown stays precariously on his head - a stark contrast to the scars and jagged edges that mark his life, and yet, somehow, it feels like it belongs to him.
"Don't," he finally rasps, his voice hoarse but not as sharp as before. "Don’t make me believe there’s anything left worth saving."
You don’t pull away. Instead, your thumb traces the edge of a particularly rough scar on his cheek, your touch soft enough to feel like an unspoken promise.
"I'm not making you believe anything," you reply, steady and unwavering. "I'm just reminding you it’s still your choice. You know, softness isn’t something you take... it's something you learn."
His lips twitch as though he wants to say something more, to argue, to fight, but instead, Dabi stays quiet. His hand, calloused and hesitant, brushes over yours where it rests against his face, holding it there as though he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go.
For the first time, there’s no fire in his eyes — no rage, no resentment, no bitterness. Just a flicker of something raw and unsure, a spark of hope too fragile to name.
"It doesn't suit me,” he finally mutters, his tone almost self-conscious as his fingers ghost over the edge of the flower crown. “But… maybe I'll keep it. Just for now."
Maybe he can't be soft anymore, but he can be kind, he decides.
you were dating the famous villian Dabi, no one knew about the relationship and things the two of you did together. He would always be gentle and loving to you, you loved.
That is until one day you overheard him in the phone discussing plans when he had outed himself unexpectedly telling the other person on the line how he’d leave you soon.
Today he seemed to be in a bad mood,you tried to comfort him you believe their was still something he’d love or atleast cared about you.
“Just leave me alone for fucks sake!” he yelled at you...
"W-what's wrong?!?" You eyes widen at his sudden outburst as you fell back from his push
“Im not in a good mood right now.” he said coldly, looking away from you. He was clearly upset about something.
"O-oh okay..." you mumbled as you got up you noticed blood trickling in your leg you had accidentally scratched yourself with something after he'd pushed you.
"I'll give you some space" you let out as you went into your room limping
he noticed how you limped, noticing the blood from your leg. He was about to say something, but you limped away before he could even say anything.
he was trying to act like he didnt care, but on the inside he was worried about you.
Even though he was trying to brush you off like you were nothing, deep down he actually kind of cared for you. But he would never admit that, not right now at least.
he started to feel a bit guilty for yelling at you. Seeing you limp to your room with blood on your leg made him feel bad. He didn't want to admit it, but he did care about you.
he walked up to your closed door and knocked on it softly.
"I'm busy not right now dabi..." you let out softly you didn't want to see him not after he'd just pushed you
he placed his hand on the door, leaning his forhead against it. He felt bad for yelling at you, but tried to hide it.
“C'mon doll... open the door.”
"I said I'm busy okay." "I'm not in the mood for your screams just go out and drink something I don't know do whatever but right now I don't want to see you" you snapped back at him harshly
he let out a frustrated sigh, he couldnt believe he actually felt guilty for you. He gripped the handle of the door and barged into your room, looking at you with furrowed eyebrows.
“Don't you dare use that tone with me.”
"W-what the hell dabi!!" Your eyes widen to the fact he'd just barged in he couldn't even give you space
he was angry, but there was also guilt in his eyes. Seeing how startled you were by him barging in caused him to feel even more guilty.
“You're my girlfriend, you can't just ignore me.”he grunted as he closed the door behind him.
"Oh but you can push me?!" You shout as your lips quivered trying to bandage your leg but struggled. Acting like it's MY fault you're in a bad mood." You mumbled angrily
he let out an frustrated sigh, he was feeling more guilty as you struggled to tend to yourself. He walked closer to you, stopping in front of you.
“Just let me help, dammit.”
"I'm good." You snapped at him
he rolled his eyes, he was getting annoyed.
He grabbed your chin roughly, forcing you to look at him.
“Stop acting stubborn and just let me help you.”
You eyes filled with tears as he grabbed your chin
"-leave me alone danm it!" You slapped his hand away. he was getting more annoyed by how stubborn you were at the moment. He grabbed your wrists and pinned you against the bed, standing over you.
“Stop acting like a damn brat and just let me help you!” Seeing your scared expression on your face made him feel more guilty. He looked down at you as he still had your wrists pinned down on the bed. He was trying to act tough and show that he didnt care, but inside he just wanted to make sure you were okay. He let out a sigh, loosening his gripped on your wrists a bit.
“Please, just let me help you dammit...”
You simply nodded knowing if you denied him more he'd be madder.
“Move your leg, let me have a look.”
he moved closer to sit down next to your leg, picking it up softly to look at the wound. He grabbed the cloth and carefully pulled it away from the wound, noticing how deep and wide the wound was.
“...you did a terrible job at bandaging yourself.”
You tired away letting out a simple
"Mh..."
he saw the wound on your leg, it was bleeding a lot. He pulled away a little, his eyes scanning your body.
“Did I seriously push you that hard that you cut yourself this badly?”
"Just shut up." You snapped at him he really asked you that type of question seriously.
he flinched a bit when you snapped at him.
He put his hand gently on your leg, trying to be soft and gentle, despite his usual cold demeanor.
“...I'm sorry, doll... I didn't mean to push you that hard. I was just... frustrated and took it out on you...” hearing his word the nicknames he’d given you hurt.. with his words you bluntly responded.
"You know I know you don't love me right?" You finally let out as your lips quivered into a slight smile.
he was surprised when you suddenly said that. He fell silent for a moment, his hand still on your leg. His eyes widened as he looked away from you.
“W-what.??”
"Y-yeah... I overheard you on a call... b-but um if you needed help you could've just told me instead of leading me on ya know?" Tears feel down from your batting eyes as you looked away as-well he froze up as you said that. His heart started racing as realization hit him. He never thought you'd be able to overhear him during that one call. All his plans of using you and his true thoughts about you were ruined and he couldn't do anything to convince you that it wasn't true.
“...you heard that??”
You softly nodded "c-could you hurry up with the bandage..."
he stayed silent for a moment, trying to process what just happened. He wanted to deny it all, to act like you hallucinated the whole thing. But the look on your face as you tried to hold back your tears told him everything he needed to know. He knew you heard everything, everything he said on that call.
“...yeah... yeah I can.”
he said as he broke out of his thoughts, grabbed the bandages, and started to tend the wound on your leg
"Thanks.." you let out softly being the only word you could tell him before stuttering
he stayed silent for most of the time while he bandaged up your leg, focusing on the wound rather than the uncomfortable atmosphere in the room. He could clearly sense that you were upset, as he had every right to expect it. He felt guilty for using you, but at the same time knew he needed to continue and that he couldnt stop himself.
“...you're welcome.”
he said as he finished the bandaging, putting the cloth away on the bedside table.
"C-could you leave me alone for a moment?" You questioned while you hurriedly wiped your face.
he hesitated for a moment as you questioned him. He was about to say something, but seeing you hurriedly wiping the tears from your face made him realize that you needed space. He exhaled, standing up from the bed.
“...yeah. Sorry.”
he said as he slowly walked out of your room, closing the door behind him.
And with that you bursted out crying everything you've been holding in you unleashed, your heart ached for him for love, for desire but everything your heart wanted wouldn't happen anymore.
he stood outside your door, hearing your sobs coming from the other side of the door. He leaned against the doorframe, feeling a mix of guilt and confusion. He knew he had hurt you by using you and faking feelings for you all this time, but now hearing your sobs made him realize how much he had messed up. He felt bad for treating you like just a toy, and for letting it go this far.
"S-stupid!" You yelled at yourself as you grabbed your phone to search and call people for a place to stay, he could hear your muttering and the sound of you scrolling through your phone.
He couldn't help but listen through the door, listening as you called around to look for a place to stay. He clenched his fists as he listened, trying to fight back the feeling of guilt that was eating him up from the inside.
"I-I can?!?, thank you so much hawks!!"
You hadn't stopped crying but felt relieved someone was willing to help you out, your friend hawks was nice enough to open his doors to you. You got up a bit in pain but enough to grab a bag and pack.
he could hear you talking to someone on the phone, assuming it was Hawks based on what you said. He still stayed by the door, listening as he leaned closer against it. He could hear you packing a bag and the sound of you getting up which he assumed was what was making you wince in pain again.
he was conflicted, his feelings all over the place. He knew he should let you go since that would be the best for you, but his twisted mind, that had grown to like having you around, wanted to keep you with him.
He stayed by the door, listening intently as you got ready to leave his place and go live with the bird he despised. As you were done packing you put your hair in a bun and opened the door when you noticed dabi there...
he had been leaning against the door frame, listening to you pack. His eyes widened as you opened the door, seeing your now puffy and red eyes from the crying before. He stood up straight, looking at you with a mixture of guilt and uncertainty.
“...you going somewhere?”
"I um yes a friends house..." you mumbled as you tried to get past dabi
he stayed silent for a moment before he stepped in front of you, blocking your way.
“...you're going to Hawks' place aren't you?”
"Hey!..-i am..." you mumbled looking away "could you move?.."
he looked at you for a moment, his heart aching as he saw the sadness and hurt in your eyes. He knew he shouldn't try to stop you, but his possessive side was stronger than his guilty side at the moment.
“...Why? You're just going to live with him now?”
"I'm just gonna stay at his place untill I find my own.." you turned to look at him
he could sense the hint of uncertainty in your voice as you spoke. He had the strange urge to keep you with him, to tell you to not leave, but he couldn't find it in himself to do so.
“...Why don't you find an apartment yourself? Why live with that stupid bird?”
"I can't live with you anymore dabi." You told him harshly why would you after how much he'd hurt you. his eyes widened as you spoke harshly, a pang of hurt hit his chest unexpectedly when you said that you couldn't live with him anymore. He took a step back, his back hitting the wall behind him.
“...w-what do you mean you cant live with me anymore?”
"Y-you just admitted you were using me do you expect me to live with you?!? Not only that you pushed the shit out of me!" Tears from your eyes as your leg winced.
he froze in place as you yelled at him, the truth of his actions coming back to hit him.
His heart ached as you mentioned that he pushed you, and seeing the tears welling back up in your eyes. He couldn't come up with a response, his mind spinning as he tried to process the situation.
he looked at you, conflict and guilt etched across his face. The thought of you leaving and living with someone else, especially Hawks, was something he didn't want to think about. He wanted to keep you with him, to continue using you as a cover up for his villainous identity, but at the same time he felt guilty for doing so. He looked at your tears, his heart aching from the fact that he was the cause of them.
“... -I'm sorry...”
"Yeah now you're sorry..." you spat you as you went for the exit
he watched as you went for the exit, still frozen in place against the wall. His heart was racing, his mind conflicted between letting you go and making you stay. He felt guilty for using you, guilty for pushing you, just overall guilty for treating you like a toy.
“...please don't go...”
You froze in place, you heard ached in pain as you thought of everything, about you and him together ... "b-bye dabi..." you let out softly as tears feel down your face.
his heart ached as you said bye to him, the words sending a pang of pain through his chest. His guilt was eating him up, telling him to let you go and that it was for the best, but his possessive and selfish side made him move forward, grabbing your wrist
“Wait!”
"Stop it!" You shouted at him, his grip on your wrist only tightened. He couldn't let you leave, couldn't let you go live with Hawks. He wanted you to stay with him.
“I said wait.”
"W-what?.." you told him in feared
he yanked you back, pulling you up against his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you in a tight grip. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, holding you tightly as if he was afraid to let you go.
“You're not going anywhere.”
"D-dabi..." you felt yourself be welcomed in his warmth the way he held you tightly made you happy.
he took in your scent, burying his face further into the crook of your neck as he held you tightly against him, almost in a possessive way. He couldn't let you leave, couldn't let you go and live with Hawks instead. As much as he told himself he didn't care about you, he felt himself cling to you tightly, refusing to loosen his grip on you.
“You're staying with me.”
"I-I can't okay..." you tried to get yourself undone from his grip, he only held onto you tighter, refusing to let go. He knew he was being possessive and selfish, but he couldn't help the feeling of wanting to keep you with him, even if it was for his own benefit.
“Yes you can. You're not leaving. You're staying right here with me, doll.”
You started to feel weak beneath him, fuck you hated the way you loved when he was possessive with you.
he could feel you weakening beneath his grip, feeling how your body relaxed against his. He could feel himself enjoying having you so close to him, feeling how your body practically submitted to his touch. He let out a small, satisfied hum, his breath warm against your skin.
he tightened his grip on you, pulling you closer against him. He felt frustrated by your resistance, but at the same time he couldn't help but enjoy the feeling of you in his arms, struggling against him.
“You said that already... and I'm telling you to stay here. So you're going to listen to me whether you like it or not, doll.”
he could feel your heart racing as he held you tightly against him, the feeling making a small, satisfied smirk appear on his face.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and holding you with a possessive grip. He knew what he was doing was selfish and possessive, but he couldn't help himself. You belonged to him and he had no intention of letting you go.
“There you go, doll... just stay still and relax in my arms.”
You started to slowly relax as you may your forehead in his Buffy chest "f-fuck you..." you let out in tears you couldn't let him go.
he chuckled softly as you buried your head in his chest, feeling the way your body finally submitted to his grip. He could hear the mixture of frustration and desire in your voice as you muttered those words, which only spurred him on even more. He tightened his grip on you, pulling you even closer against him.
“That's right, doll... just accept it. You belong to me and you're staying here... not going anywhere.” he scooped you up in his arms, lifting you with ease. He carried you into the room, his grip on you firm and possessive. He walked over to the bed and gently placed you down, crawling on top of you and trapping you beneath him.
"I-" you felt a pair of soft lips on yours he silenced you with a deep, possessive kiss, his lips claiming yours with a mix of gentleness and domination. He hovered over you, pressing his body against yours, making sure you couldn't escape his grip.
The room filled with the sound of his breathing and the soft, wet sounds of kisses.
He spoke softly as he continued to cover you in kisses, his hands roaming your body, touching and caressing your skin. He whispered between kisses, expressing his dominant and possessive love for you as he marked you as his.
“You're mine... all mine.”
You whimpered beneath his touch "d-dabi..." you covered your mouth as you felt his kisses touch you all over.
he could hear the whimpers and gasps that escaped from your mouth, the sounds music to his ears. He continued to kiss and caress your skin, his lips and hands covering every inch of you, leaving no part of your body untouched by his possessive and loving touch
“Don't cover your mouth, doll. I want to hear your sweet little sounds...”
——
The room was cloaked in an oppressive darkness, illuminated only by the flickerinto light. On the floor, strewn carelessly, lie discarded clothing: an open shirt and discarded pants of his, your t shirt and sweatpants along with your undergarments. The air was thick with the scent of perfume. Dabi's fingers trailed up your bare thighs, lingering on the dampness he found there.
His touch was light as a feather, sending shivers down your spine. He could feel your heart pounding, wild with desire, as his teeth grazed the delicate skin of her neck. His erect cock pressed against you, setting off a chain reaction of desire that echoed through her whole body. You squirmed beneath him, thrusting up to meet him, your thighs clamping around his waist. He groaned as he sank into your, his hips bucking wildly in response.
"You're so fucking tight," he said, his voice heavy with lust.
"O-only for you," you breathed, as your hands gripped his arms as he began to move, slow at first, then faster, his, setting a rhythm that was both primal.
"F-fuck, you feel so good," he grunted, sweat beading on his forehead as he driving into you with reckless abandon. You met him thrust for thrust, your nails digging into his back as your orgasm built, the pressure mounting with every brutal.
"I'm sorry," he murmured after a while, rolling off you and pulling tour into his arms.
"W-what?" You asked, nestling your head on his broad chest.
"For hurting you. I can't promise it won't happen again, but I can promise that I'll always try to make it right. I know I said I would leave you but I can’t. And I won’t."
Tears filled your eyes as you realized that, despite his flaws, he truly cared for you.
"I-I forgive you," you whispered, kissing him softly on the lips. As the two of you drifted off to sleep, his cook began to stir once again, still slick with you.
You moaned as he moved on top of you, his hands pinning hers above her head.
"I can't get enough of you fuck." he growled, his hips grinding against you as he slid back inside. You both gasped as he entered you, your slick skin meeting with a wet slap.
"P-pleas— f-fuck me harder," you urged, digging your nails into his shoulders as he snapped his hips forward, his cock bottoming out in you again and again.
"You like that?" he panted, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your chest.
You wrapped her legs around his waist, giving him better access to your slick, wet, as he pounds into you with renewed energy. He quickens his pace, his cock driving deep, delighting in the sound of your ecstatic moans.
He grabs the leg he has earlier injured as kissed around the wound softly.
“I-I’m so sorry princess..”
you felt your insides come undone with his chest
"Goddamn, you're so tight," he growls, digging his fingers into your hips for leverage before placing your leg onto his shoulder. His hips slam into you, your breasts bouncing against his chest with each strike, sending electric shocks of pleasure shooting through her entire body.
“D-dabi!!” You yelped in a plea
“I -I can-“ you were hushed with a passionate kiss from him, lip on lip
“Cum for me princess..” he breath heavily on your lips as he thrusted rapidly, soon you came undone with a final hash thrust. Loud moans and groans filled the room switching from perfume to hot slutty sex.
He laid next to you as you cuddled on his chest,he grabbed your phone as he handed it to you.
“Call that bird and tell him your aren’t going anymore..” he said in a low possessive tone. You giggled at his words and give him a kiss on his neck trailing to your final destination his lips.
(if you liked my work feel free to check out the rest on my page and follow <3!! Or click the #hotcheetos22 )
Waking up with Dabi in between your legs. Your pajama bottoms long discarded on the bedroom floor and the only thing worth focusing on is a warm pleasure that gently coxes you into consciousness as Dabi slowly tongue fucks your pretty hole. He's watching you closely as your eyes blink open and your hand reaches for his hair, pulling a downright sinful moan outta him.
"Pretty little pet, So eager for me. Just relax and let me take care of you doll, wanna make you fall apart around my mouth before we gotta get up for the day- make sure you're walkin' funny so everyone knows how good I make you feel" he sounds so breathless and needy like he's starving for you as he dives back in-between your legs making you gasp and moan as he starts giving your most sensitive spots all the attention he could muster, determined to have you broken and dumb on his tongue before he let you out of his bed.
Tags/Warnings: fantasy AU, medieval AU, witch!Touya, witch!reader, time skip, creampie, mating press, fluff and smut, soft Touya, teasing
Synopsis: Time has now passed since your initial meeting with Touya. You've come to learn more about yourself and your new abilities, all with the gentle guidance of Touya. But... you find yourself feeling more for him than just someone who lives in his home. When he speaks, your mind blanks, too busy on watching the way his lips move to even absorb a word. Your feelings come to a fever pitch when you playfully steal his hat. So what happens when you decide to act on your desires?
Author's note: HAPPY HALLOWEEN (early). Okay so I know I have been gone awhile buuuuut I figure with halloween right around the corner... I should rly get around to showing witch!Touya some love. And so, here you are.
Word Count: 6.2K
Heavily inspired by this art by the lovely shoucolate
Masterlist
Link to AO3
Part Two
It has been some time since you first arrived. You’ve grown accustomed to both life in the forest and life with Touya. The seasons have since changed. All of the trees have shed their leaves and a thin blanket of snow covers the ground. Usually, around wintertime, you’d struggle to stay warm and heat your shop while you drowned in needlework. But now? Touya’s home -no- your home is never cold, the fire always alit with his glowing blue flames. The only struggles you truly face are from attempting to understand runic language and from trying to stay awake with how cozy your home is. Which brings you to now, finding Touya has lost that battle and slumbers peacefully. It’s a sight that makes you smile, seeing him so serene.
He must not have intended to fall asleep, as he’s still wearing his hat. The pointed hat is now crumpled against the chaise. You’re able to really look at him like this, to fully drink in his features; the slope of his nose, his pretty white eyelashes, the contour of his lips… You try to push down these thoughts of yours when they come around, but you can’t help but think he’s quite attractive. It’s becoming increasingly distracting lately. Just the other day, when he was so close to you, attempting to help you understand a particularly confusing spell from his books, you couldn’t stop staring at his lips and thinking about what they would feel like against yours. You can’t even remember what he said then, it’s gotten to be that troublesome for you.
You’re pulled out of your thoughts when he seems to stir in his sleep, brows pinching together as he mumbles incoherently. You knew of his troubles sleeping, but you never had the chance to see what he was talking about, as the two of you slept separately. It seems to you as if he’s having an unpleasant dream. The thought of him having nightmares while you stand there and do nothing doesn’t sit well with you. You don’t want to disturb his slumber, so you decide against awakening him. Instead, you choose to soothe him.
You sit next to him on the available space of the chaise. Your fingers deftly trace the runes on his skin. The contact seems to calm him, as his brow slowly relaxes and his mumbling subsides. You wonder if he has bad dreams often, silently carrying that burden all on his own. The thought makes you determined to get to know him better. You want to become someone he trusts, someone he can rely on. You’ve been grateful for his help in understanding yourself and your new abilities, but you can’t help but worry the relationship has been one-sided, with you disproportionately benefitting while he gets nothing in return. You want to help him too, you’re just not sure how.
You must have been too enamored in your own introspection to notice he had awoken. His eyes flutter open and drearily peer at you. You feel frozen in place.
“Y-you’re awake,” you stutter. Your cheeks feel hot. You turn away as you apologize. “I didn’t mean to wake you, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he dismisses. His voice is raspier and deeper than normal. Hearing him speak this way sends a tingle down your spine. Your eyes are magnetically drawn to him despite your embarrassment and you glance over at him. He gives you a soft smile as he rubs the remnants of sleep from his eyes. It seems the dregs of drowsiness are wearing off of him, as he flirts, “I wouldn’t mind waking up like that more often.”
“Waking up like what?” you ask, inquisitively.
He merely smirks at you, before clarifying, “To you.” His sweet words make you feel even more flustered.
“You tease me too much, Touya,” you huff.
“I do not,” he defends, sitting up as he denies your accusation and closing some of the distance between you. “I don’t think I do it enough, actually.”
“Well in that case…” you start, before trailing off at the end of your sentence. Touya looks at you expectantly. You snatch his witch’s hat from his head and dodge his reaching hands by leaping up from your spot on the chaise. “Until you stop teasing me, this will be mine.”
You place the hat atop your head. He’s staring at you with a shocked expression. His stunned demeanor makes you a little nervous, causing you to question if your attempt at playfulness has instead insulted him. You try to maintain the lighthearted mood by asking, “What, does it not suit me?”
His mind is flooding with thoughts of you wearing more of his clothes. Or better yet, you in nothing but his hat.
He’s gotta get that damn thing back.
“As much as it does, I’ll be taking that,” he says. You give him a mischievous smile.
“You’ll have to catch me then,” you challenge. And with that, the chase begins. Touya is much quicker than you expected, as he gains on you quickly. You duck and dodge his efforts to snatch the hat from your head. It’s after a particularly close call that you think of a devious idea. You still have the rune marks on your skin from practicing earlier, the letters temporarily stained onto your skin with simple ink. It’s nothing more than a simple spell, something you learned from him, in fact, but maybe it’ll help you prolong this little game. A chair is pulled out ahead of his path, so not as to cause him to trip and hurt himself but to serve as an obstacle, in an attempt to buy yourself a few more seconds. He catches it with his hand and pushes it out of his way.
“It’ll take more than a cheap trick to stop me,” he brags, before resuming the chase.
You maneuver carefully and quickly through the halls. You’re nearing the end of the hall, so you have to make the quick decision to dive into a room. You choose to bolt into your bedroom. It’s rather small and a dead end, but maybe you could figure out a way to dart past him and win this little game. His pace is slower as he enters your room, knowing full well that you’re cornered with nowhere to go. You attempt to run past him, but his arms circle around your waist. He grabs you and spins you around in his arms. You let out a surprised squeal.
“Alright, alright, you win,” you concede, speaking in between giggles. He gently places you down on the ground. You reach up and place his hat back on his head. Your arms seem to hesitate. You don’t want to stop touching him just yet, so you rest one of your arms on his shoulder, like a faux embrace, while your other hand adjusts his hat. He doesn’t seem to mind, as he leans into your touch. One of his hands rests upon your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him. You feel more secure in your gestures, and you drape your arms behind his neck.
You’ve been afraid of overstepping by touching him all this time, but his reactions make you realize he really doesn’t mind. It’s as if he’s been starved for touch. The thought of him being so deprived of human interaction makes you a bit saddened. You remember what you were thinking about on the chaise, how you wish to understand him more. How can you expect to learn more about him if you never take the chance to ask?
“Touya?” You ask, unsure. You’re curious, but you don’t want to make him uncomfortable.
“Hm?” He hums.
“Please forgive my prying and my sudden question, but… did you ever feel lonely?” you ask softly. “I just… I can’t help but wonder what it was like for you, to be alone all these years.”
“Even before,” he starts, referencing his time as a royal. “I never was much of a socialite. Being alone is natural for me.”
“Hm, is that so?” You hum, before continuing in a softer, almost somber tone, “I hope my presence hasn’t ruined that for you.” He’s quick to deny it, dispelling your worries.
“No, not a chance. I…,” he pauses. There’s a slight flush that begins to creep upon his cheeks as he hesitates to speak more. Your eyes catch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, before his next admission falls from his tongue.
“I have enjoyed your company,” he admits. His other hand finds itself on your waist and the two of you hold one another. Your heart seems to stutter.
“But would you continue to enjoy it?” You challenge. His gestures get bolder, as he pulls you flush against him, his arms wrapped around your torso. “You’re stuck with me now. Would that ever be tiring?”
“I don’t think such a thing is possible,” he reassures.
“I sure hope not,” you murmur. He gives you a soft smile that you find yourself returning, lifting the mood. The two of you embrace comfortable silence, gazing into each other’s eyes with enamored expressions, until he seems to be lost in thought. You don’t notice how his eyes flick from your eyes to your lips.
“Can I…” he trails off, shyly. You raise an eyebrow, encouraging him to continue. His face reddens more when he finally rushes out, “Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” you breathe, responding almost embarrassingly fast. A quick flash of relief crosses his face upon hearing your enthusiasm before being replaced by a loving smile. The space between the two of you closes as his face draws closer to yours. Instinctively, your eyes flutter shut and your lips part.
You can feel him fighting back a smile when your lips finally touch. The feeling of his lips on yours is everything you imagined and more; soft and sweet, loving yet passionate. Despite finally feeling his lips on yours, satisfying your desire, you find yourself yearning for more. You want to feel more of him, all of him. The thought fills you with a fire you’ve never felt before. You throw yourself to the flames and kiss him back with fervor as you card one of your hands through his soft, white hair.
He holds you tighter against him as his lips work against yours. Your heart feels like it could just burst when he deepens the kiss and runs his tongue along your lip. His tongue brushes against yours when you part your lips further. The action makes you sharply inhale. You’re intoxicated by him, drunk on every sensation he gives you, to the point it feels almost dizzying. The desire you feel makes you weak in the knees and your arm tightens around him in an attempt to not sway on the spot, but this task seems almost impossible when you feel something hard pressing against you.
Reluctantly, you part for air, trying to catch your breath before your knees really give out on you. He rests his forehead on yours as the two of you both pant in unison. Your stomach flutters when you lock eyes with him, noticing the way he looks at you, eyes half lidded. The sight of him like this… and all for you. All because of you.
It fills you with desperation.
A desperate need for more.
After the two of you catch your breath, he moves to give you space, taking your choice to part for air as a sign to stop, but you pull him closer and cling onto his shirt. You don’t want to stop anytime soon.
“M-more,” you whisper, want apparent in your breathy voice. He lets out a soft, airy chuckle at your neediness and leans in for a kiss, but gives you nothing more than a quick peck on the lips before pulling away.
“Why don’t we take this somewhere more comfortable, hm?” he suggests. “Is the bed okay with you?
You instantly agree, maybe a little too eagerly, much to your embarrassment. He doesn’t tease you about it, something you’re silently thankful for. In fact, he seems to reward your honesty and enthusiasm by pressing a few heated kisses to your jaw. His bold actions make your knees nearly buckle and a soft gasp escapes your lips.
Bastard.
Your steps are now clumsy, thanks to his flustering, as he leads you down the hallway. But now in your room, the magnetism between the two of you pulls you together once more. His lips find yours and he kisses you with renewed fervor. It’s equal parts passionate and desperate, carrying with it unspoken feelings of yearning and long awaited closeness. You return his feelings through your own actions, as you coax him forward by gripping his shirt collar.
Your movements are less than graceful as you both move. It’s a distracted waltz towards the bed, your minds too busy on the feeling of one another to focus on making controlled movements to your destination. Though, it doesn’t take too long, as after a few shared, airy laughs at your clumsiness, the back of your knees touch the bed. You yield to the furniture, lying down on the mattress and parting your legs. He soon joins you and kneels over you on the bed, his body tucked in between your thighs.
He moves on from your lips and slowly presses hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck. He kisses a particularly sensitive spot on your skin along your collarbone, earning a whine from your throat. The sound of you keening for him only further spurs him on and he sucks the skin into his mouth, leaving behind a faint mark. Soft pants escape your lips as he continues marking your neck and chest, painting reminders of him on your skin, all the while he’s overcome with the need to hear more of your sweet moans.
You feel his hard length press in between your legs, now tantalizingly close in the new position. Your breath hitches and your heart leaps in your chest upon feeling his hips rut against you, grinding against your core. The feeling nearly drives you to the edge of blind passion, as you battle the desire to rip both your clothes off and feel his hot skin against yours. But as much as you’d love to throw caution to the wind and sleep with him now, there’s a gnawing worry in the back of your mind.
“W-wait,” you stammer between panting breaths. He freezes at your request and pulls back slightly.
“What is it, my love?” He asks. You can hear a faint twinge of worry in his voice. His hand finds your knee and traces circles through your skirt fabric, his own way of soothing both you and himself in this moment. He looks at you, expectantly, not wanting to move until you speak your mind.
“Maybe…” You start, before trailing off. A soft curse escapes your lips as you grapple between your desires and your relational mind. Your chest is heaving and you bite your lip. When your words finally find you, they’re hesitant and hushed, “Maybe we should stop.”
“Is that what you want?” He questions.
“Well, no, but… I don’t wish to have a child yet,” you explain shyly, insinuating what would come next. Touya raises a brow, as if he knows something you don’t.
“That?” He questions. “Something so simple is solvable with an easy spell, done after.”
“It is?” You ask, voice pitched an octave higher in surprise.
“Yes,” he assures you with a soft smile. Your amazement at magic is always so endearing to him. But, despite this problem being easily worked around, he knows such a revelation is sudden. He’d love to take you now, but he doesn’t want to push your boundaries. “Though if you’re unsure, we can just-”
“No,” you interrupt, quickly cutting off his next words. You tenderly cup his face. “It’s okay, I want to.”
“If you are sure…” He whispers. His eyes flutter close as he leans forward and presses his lips against yours in a soft kiss, before picking up where he left off. Only this time, he starts a new trail down your neck, adorning you with more marks suckled into your skin. You’re painted in his colors as he works over your neck, occasionally soothing over the now bruising skin with his tongue. Both the feeling of his mouth over your sensitive neck and the thought of him laying claim to you like this has you squirming underneath him.
His lips inch closer to your hemline, and you find yourself wanting to rip off your own clothes if it means you’d feel the sin of his lips grace more of you. He seems to sense your frustration and he pulls himself away from you. As he’s now sitting up, his greedy eyes admire the sight of you below him.
Through his eyes, you look absolutely irresistible like this; your eyes opium blown with lust, your neck mottled with love marks, your dress slowly slipping off your shoulders, and your lips parted and kiss-swollen. If you look this alluring to him still fully clothed, he wonders just how much more he’ll want you upon seeing your bare skin.
The thought spurs him on. His hands snake under your skirt and grip your thighs. The fabric hikes up your legs, exposing your skin to the cool air and to his gaze. Bit by bit, his hands ascend up your thighs and onto your hips, tracing the curves of your body along the way.
Even with your inexperience, you understand what he wants. You reach for your metal girdle belt and unlatch it, allowing the chain to pool against the bed. With your belt no longer in the way, he helps you pull your dress and chemise over your head. You lift your hips and he rids you of the rest of your underclothes.
You’re now fully undressed in front of him. The realization makes you feel insecure, only further worsened by his gaze on your body. You try to cover yourself with your arms out of reflex, but he tuts at your insecurity and grabs your arms, pinning them to the bed.
“Feeling shy, are we?” he teases, his husky voice only serving to worsen your embarrassment. You avert your eyes from his and worry your bottom lip in between your teeth. “Love, what is there to be shy about?”
“It’s just… I’m sure you’ve seen more appealing women than I,” you answer, speaking softly and unsure. “I’m worried I’m… disappointing.”
“Not a chance,” he assures. His voice drops an octave and he compliments, “Had I not already known you were a witch, I’d have taken you for a succubus.” He dives in for a passionate kiss on your lips, soothing your insecurity. When he pulls away, he breathily reaffirms, “You are heavenly.”
He punctuates his point by pressing a kiss in between your breasts. Both his actions and words fluster you, but you’re not able to hide your face from his gaze with your arms pinned to the mattress. His lips begin to roam the expanse of your chest until he reaches your nipples, where he places an open-mouthed kiss on them before taking your bud into his mouth. His tongue draws circles around your nipple. You moan and arch your back at the foreign sensation. Wetness pools in between your legs with every flick of his tongue.
“So sensitive,” he teases, speaking against your skin after pulling away from your breast.
“How can I not be when you’re-“ you start, before he latches onto your other nipple and chokes off your retort. You shoot him a glare, to which he smirks at upon releasing your chest with a wet pop.
“‘S not a bad thing, my dear,” he says. “It’s flattering.”
“Ugh, you’re so unfair,” you groan.
“How so?”
“You keep teasing me and…”
“And?”
“And… you’re still…” you struggle to say the rest, trailing off at the end. This situation on its own is embarrassing for you, much less speaking your mind. He looks at you expectantly, urging you to continue. You swallow down your shyness and avert your eyes from his intense gaze when you speak again. “It’s easier for you to fluster me when I’m unclothed and you’re not.”
“So you want to see me naked? How naughty,” he chastises, though his words lack any true admonishment and are instead laced with amusement and cockiness.
“Oh shut up,” you shoot back. You groan at his taunting. “I just want to touch you, all of you, without your clothes in the way.”
“Then let me give you what you want,” He obliges with a smirk. His warmth leaves you momentarily for him to shed his clothes. You prop yourself up on your forearms to watch him.
First, his loose robe is lazily guided off of his shoulders. Then, he pulls his white shirt off, allowing you the full view of his stomach. It flusters you more to see a modest set of toned muscle along his abdomen, hiding underneath swaths of his torso adorned with more runic tattoos. His arms flex slightly as the shirt is completely pulled off and thrown elsewhere.
You push yourself off of your arms and sit upright, now closer to his bare upper half. Your hands trace over the now bare skin of his arms, trailing along the tattooed runes, and eventually making your way to the planes of his chest. He shudders slightly as your fingers dance further and further down his body. His breathing significantly picks up when your twitching fingers dare to graze the beginning of his pelvis.
You look up at him and bat your lashes. It’s a silent demand. He hasn’t fulfilled your wish yet; there’s still clothing between the two of you. His hand caresses your jaw, tenderly, before acquiescing to your request. He withdraws from you and stands to undoe the fastening of his pants. And with that, he’s now bare before you.
Your eyes travel down the contours of his abs and to his pelvis. Much like the hair on his head, there’s a patch of white at the base of his hard length. You’ve not seen much of the male anatomy, but from what you can gather, he’s rather large. You start to worry, just how is this supposed to fit?
You must have said what you were thinking aloud, and he answers your worries.
“It will. I’ll make it fit, my love,” he promises. He sees your apprehension and reaches for you. His knuckles tenderly strokes your cheek as he reassures you with a gentle voice, “I’ll go slow, just relax for me. Trust me.”
He gazes at you with an expression nothing short of adoration. Your heart swells at how softly he’s treating you, how he has never once through this interaction pushed you farther than you were comfortable with. With him, you know he’d treasure this part of yourself that you’re giving to him. You take a deep breath in to steady your nerves.
“Okay,” you answer. You look at him, reflecting back his look of love and smile. “I trust you.”
He closes the distance between you, bare bodies now touching, and presses a kiss to your lips, loving and soft at first. His tongue slips into your mouth and you moan at the intrusion. His hard cock brushes against your thigh at the sound, twitching all because of your moan.
His warm fingers slowly trail down your body, soothing over the goosebumps that pebble your bare skin. The pads of his fingers graze between your breasts, down your stomach, and over your mound. Your heart begins to race with anticipation when he drags closer to your core. He finally touches where you’re most desperate and your breath instantly hitches upon the contact. His fingers trace up and down your slit, drawing soft whines from your throat with every pass over your clit.
A few deliberate, harder presses against your clit sends soft waves of pleasure through you. The teasing, slow touches have you growing wetter for him, coating his fingers in a sheen. Seemingly satisfied with your evident arousal, he alters his goal, his touch now descending from your clit and focusing elsewhere. His fingers prod at your entrance before he slowly inserts one finger into your hole. You gasp at the foreign intrusion. His fingers feel so long yet delightfully thick. The feeling of makes your hips squirm.
He tests the waters cautiously first, pulling out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. When his digit has nearly slipped out of you, he searches your reaction, and upon seeing no traces of discomfort, slides back inside. His fingers then pump in and out of you, setting a comfortable pace. You let out soft gasps intermittently, finding pleasure in his movements.
Though, he seems to be looking for something, altering the angle of his fingers as they dive in and out of you. His gaze is affixed to your face. He’s searching for some sort of reaction. When his fingers press against the spongy bundle of nerves in your walls, you instantly keen. Your toes curl at the shockwaves of pleasure that scatter through your core at the feeling of his touch against your g-spot. He smirks at the sight.
“That’s it,” he cooes. “Feels good?”
“Y-yes, oh god, Touya,” you moan loudly, with a drawn out keen of his name. Your walls flutter around his finger as he continues to bully into your most sensitive spot. The feeling of you pulsing around him clouds his mind and he enters a lust filled haze.
“Yeah, keep saying my name like that,” he breathes. His eyes are half lidded as he starts to imagine the way you’ll feel around his cock. Fuck, the thought has him realizing he needs to get you properly prepped and stretched for him. “Think you can take another?”
Your legs instinctively part wider for him, at the thought of being stuffed full on his fingers. You nod at his question. You’re eager to feel more of him. He sucks in a breath and pulls out until just the pad of his middle finger is nestled in your cunt. His tattooed ring finger collects the beads of wetness slipping out of your core, before slowly pushing in alongside his other finger. The delicious stretch has you moaning and arching on the bed. And with the new position of his hands, the palm of his hand grinds against your clit with every slow thrust of his fingers. The surprise of the new sensation has you throwing your arms around his neck.
“T-Touya,” you whimper. The pleasure he’s giving you is too much, yet not enough at the same time. There’s a pressure that’s building up inside of you, a white hot pleasure that threatens to spill over. It’s a foreign feeling, yet it’s something you find yourself chasing.
“M-more. Please Touya,” you beg sweetly. Your eyes are welling with tears, all from the sexual frustration. It makes his heart stutter when you bat your lashes at him, now damp with tears threatening to spill over. The hands behind his neck now card and tug through his hair.
You’re driving him fucking crazy.
He surges forward and captures your lips. His pace quickens. The pleasure drives you crazy, especially when the fingers delving into you keep curling up and hitting that delicious spot inside of you. It doesn’t help that now his palm firmly presses against that sensitive bundle of nerves with every inward thrust of his fingers. You moan and whimper into his mouth desperately, to which he eagerly and greedily swallows by tangling his tongue with yours. Your fingers harshly tug his white locks as you find the pleasure coiling up your spine. You let out a salacious, sinful sound as your release dances on the edge.
He pulls away from the kiss to whisper a warning against your lips, “If you keep moaning like that I won’t even last.”
True to his words, you glance down at his cock, instantly feeling flustered upon seeing his tip leaking precum and his whole cock throbbing. It just barely brushes against you with each furious bob up and down.
You bite your lip and swallow down your sounds, wanting him to last. Despite your release so close, you find yourself wanting something else instead.
“Please take me, Touya,” you blurt out. His pace falters and he releases a curse under his breath.
“You temptress,” he hisses. He groans and squeezes his eyes shut. His jaw clenches as his chest heaves slightly. “What did I just say about me not lasting if you keep…” He grits his teeth, a shaky, tense sigh slipping past.
Who is he to deny you though? He’ll cave to your wishes every time, giving as much of himself as he can before falling apart. He scissors his fingers inside of you, the sudden movement accompanied by a mild twinge of pressure.
“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” He asks. His crystal blue eyes stare at you intently, half lidded yet still searching for any hint of hesitation in you.
“Yes,” you reply. “Take me, please Touya. Make me yours.”
He sucks in a breath. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that,” he admits.
He takes himself by the base and aligns with your slit. It’s teasing how he runs himself up and down your lips. You feel as if he’s still torturing you with pleasure, not realizing he’s gathering up your slick. He’s staying true to his words that he’ll make it fit.
With his head now coated in a layer of sheen, his cock head pushes into your twitching hole, inching in slowly. You feel a slight pinch at the intrusion. The pain makes you gasp and whimper. Unwittingly, your nails also dig into the back of his neck.
It reminds him to go slow with you, despite the intense pleasure he feels upon your tight walls clamping around his head. Seconds drag on as he pushes himself further inside of you, every inch stretching you beyond what you’d think physically possible. It’s dizzying how full you feel.
With one more slow cant of his hips forward, he’s nestled into you to the hilt, his pelvis meeting your thighs. He sighs at the feeling of your body wrapped around his full length. His forehead rests against yours as the two of you take a moment to breathe. He soothingly runs his thumb over your cheek, silently acknowledging your initial discomfort.
When your breathing normalizes and the traces of pain leave your expression, he pulls his hips back, allowing his shaft to almost slide out of you until only the head remains. A whimper escapes your mouth as he slowly slides back in. It elicits a strange feeling inside you, bordering between not quite pain, but not quite pleasure yet.
“Shh,” he coos. He’s reassuring and gentle as he speaks, “I’ve got you. You’ll feel better soon, my darling.”
Soft praises consisting of ‘you’re doing so well’ and ‘I’ll take care of you’ spill from his lips with every slow, deep thrust of his hips. His praises make you dizzy, and the feeling of his length pressing against your cervix doesn’t help. You feel so full. You’re sure you’d see the outline of him inside of you if you looked down.
A particular thrust seems to brush against that gummy spot inside of you, and the initial discomfort gives way to blissful pleasure. Upon seeing your relaxed and lustful expression, he sets a faster rhythm. Every drawn out drag of his hips against yours starts to build up.
A thick sheen of sweat coats his pale skin and his thrusts become faster, more purposeful. You’re writhing underneath him, arching your back and dipping your hips to meet his thrusts. It’s clear you’re becoming desperate for more.
He hooks his hands under your knees and presses your thighs to your chest. You gasp at the mating press he pushes you into, feeling the burn of your thighs and a burn in your ears from the embarrassment of being splayed open. His cock seems to go deeper in you and is angled at the perfect spot. Your walls clamp down on him as his head nudges against your g spot. He feels your reaction to the new angle and lets out a groan.
His hips snap forward harshly, causing an audible smack between your bodies. The contact taps your clit and has you instantaneously keening. Eager for more of the feeling on your bundle of nerves, your hand snakes between your legs to toy with the hood of your clit. He catches sight of your sneaking hand. His eyes go dark at seeing you chase pleasure.
“Hold these for me, will you?” He requests, guiding your own hands to the back of your thighs. Words of protest, regarding how indecent you feel, die upon your lips. With his hands now free, his fingers find his way to your clit now, rubbing tight circles.
He feels you tighten up around him, your walls contracting in an impending orgasm. His eyes focus on you in this moment as he’s attuned to your every reaction. You look so beautiful to him in this moment, with your face contorted in pleasure, your lips parted from panting and moaning, your pupils opium blown and dilated. He just knows you’ll look even prettier when you fall apart under him.
“‘S too much,” you whine. Despite your assertion of overstimulation, he ignores your protest. His movements on you clit fasten and he pushes harder against your bundle of nerves.
“Shhh, you can take it. I know you can,” he assures. He slightly quickens his pace and continues to rub your clit. “You’re close, I can feel it. Just let go. Cum for me.”
“Fuck, Touya!” You scream, his words urging you to come setting you off. Your legs shake and convulse with the intensity of your orgasm. A flood of wetness escapes your hole, allowing his thrusts the lubrication to work you through your climax, despite how tightly your walls attempt to suck him in.
He steals a quick glance to where your bodies meet, seeing a ring of cream coating the base of his cock. His eyes nearly roll back at the sight and his hips slam into you harshly out of impulse.
“God, you’re so tight. ‘M gonna-” he warns, before he lets out a punched out sound, the words dying on his lips. His hips stutter as he reaches his end. You feel his hot release spill over inside you, filling you with warmth. He continues to pump shallow thrusts, working himself through his own climax. Your ears burn upon hearing the sound of faint squelching coming from your hole.
You relax the grip on your thighs and allow your legs to relax. He takes the hint and slowly pulls out of you, causing a trickle of your shared releases to gush from you.
“Wait here,” he whispers. “Let me get something to clean you up.”
You nod at his command and wait for him on the bed. He returns quickly with something to wipe you down with. Soreness starts to settle between your legs, your body now aching from the stretch of him. A sharp hiss escapes your lips when he touches your cunt with the fabric, and in reaction, mutters a soft apology. He gingerly runs the dampened cloth against your folds, wiping away the flood of your shared releases.
“Touya?” You ask. He hums in response, urging you to continue with your words. “The spell?”
“Don’t worry, that can be done within the day. You deserve some rest now,” he assures. You sigh in relief and motion for him to come closer. A chuckle escapes him, along with a playful tease of ‘so needy for me’, but he happily obliges your request.
He lays behind you and wraps his arms around your waist. The two of you lay like this, in harmony together, basking in the closeness. Your breathing steadies as one, and you’re sure your heartbeats begin to sync. The love you feel for him threatens to spill out of your soul.
The tenderness of the moment turns humorous as he shifts and grumbles behind you. “Mm, this bed isn’t very comfortable,” he complains. You instantly bark out a laugh.
“And you just now realized that? Now you know what I have felt in this bed,” you agree. He shakes his head.
“Apologies for that, my darling,” he apologizes. He seems to think for a moment before his voice deepens suggestively, “You know, mine has room for two. Why don’t you stay with me in mine from now on?”
You reach behind you and crane your neck to kiss his lips. “I’d love to,” you answer. He smiles against your lips and goes to move for another kiss, but you pull away to add. “But later, ‘m too sore to move.”
“But of course,” he laughs. You nuzzle back into his body and chase his warmth. Tattooed arms pull you flush with his chest, allowing all of your skin to meld with one another. Your eyelids feel heavy as sleep begins to wash over you. The last thing that crosses your mind is how staying here, with him, forever, sounds like heaven to you.
