touyaism

touya my muse

[emahriel]

a soul he refused to curse

[andypantsx3]

DEAD RECKONING : TODOROKI TOUYA x READER

SUMMARY: A makeup artist at a haunted maze, all you want to do is make it to the end of the season with a little extra cash in your pocket and no murder convictions on your record. Scare actor Todoroki Touya makes that last part a challenge. (7.8k) CONTENT & WARNINGS: no quirks au, halloween, enemies to lovers, fem + afab reader, slight scumbag touya, haunted maze workers, smut, semi-public sex, smoking, heavy swearing, touya likes having his hair pulled + girls who are a little mean to him, sort of good girl vs bad boy vibes, 18+ minors please dni NOTES: Happy Halloween from me!! This fic is part of the Willow's Haunted House collab. Dedicated to cat-slippered and ofmermaidstories, for workshopping what eventually became this fic with me about a thousand years ago. I’m sorry I turned Bakugou into Dabi. And I’m sorry for dedicating the now Dabi fic to you. But not sorry enough to not have done it. Love you. :)

If there was one thing you hated about Halloween, it was Todoroki Touya.

Shockingly, this was not a commonly-held sentiment, which was the only reason there even was a recurrence of Todoroki Touya darkening your Halloween seasons in the first place.

For the last three years, you’d spent your fall semester working as a makeup artist at the Musutafu haunted maze alongside a slew of other college and local kids looking to make a little extra cash. The hours were fairly flexible, and the wage covered your textbooks, with a little left over to keep you in the occasional coffee between lectures.

But your wages did not nearly cover the amount of psychic damage you had been dealt, managing Todoroki Touya’s obnoxious, sarcastic, chain-smoking ass day after day for seasons on end.

On lucky days, someone else was on Touya duty. But on unlucky ones, you found him sprawling in the plastic makeup chair opposite you, those intense blue eyes tracking you with no small amount of pleasure, like he was this afternoon.

You stopped in the doorway, a curse slipping out of you. You’d been hoping that you’d get lucky today, as the day was otherwise an excellent one. You’d invited a group of friends to do the maze with you after you got off shift, and you had been looking forward to it all week.

But it figured Touya could never let you have too good of a time.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he drawled over the noise of displeasure that escaped you. He was at least already dressed in costume, so he wouldn’t go smearing his makeup as he pulled it on, a tumble of stitches and frayed edges that had once been a dark-blue duster, but now just mostly gaped open to show the hard planes of his chest.

“I’m so sure,” you told him, averting your eyes from his pecs. You sighed, resigning yourself to his presence, and made your way in, dumping your bag on the staff room couch.

“This is a very hostile work environment you’re creating,” Touya rasped, his grin sharp. Years of chain-smoking outside the maze had left his voice even lower and raspier than when you’d first met him three years ago.

“Don’t worry, it can always get more hostile,” you told him, affecting your own sweet grin as you moved over to the vanity, digging through all the makeup and prosthetics for the ones he’d need.

Touya himself was severely scarred, which was likely why he’d applied to work at the haunted maze in the first place. You’d never asked him about his scars, but you’d heard enough gossip from the other maze workers to know that they were the product of a childhood accident, involving the burning down of his father’s—the then-and-current mayor’s—house.

He’d accentuated them with a shit load of facial piercings, and was sort of off-putting to look at the first time you caught a glimpse of him. The issue was that, once your eyes made sense of what they were seeing, he was infuriatingly handsome.

You’d heard he’d initially been unleashed on the maze with no makeup or prosthetics, and within the first evening was causing line backups, with all the parties of teen girls who were taking a little too much time lingering around his section of the maze.

So now he was subjected to prosthetics to make him uglier, a fact that he seemed to absolutely relish.

You dug out the monster prosthetic pack that gave him jutting forehead ridges. “Let’s make the outside reflect the inside, shall we,” you told him as you flapped the rubbery pieces at him, smirking your own little smirk.

Touya’s answering grin was wicked, and he relaxed back in his seat, sprawling his legs out wide in that infuriating way men had. “Think my outside is too pretty then, huh?” he asked, sapphire eyes flickering over you.

Your face went hot in a weird combination of anger and embarrassment. “I try not to think of your outside,” you told him pertly, making sure to slap the forehead piece onto him hard enough to make a splat noise.

His mouth twitched again but he let you go to work, gluing the pieces down against his face, careful not to press them to the seams of any of his scars. He was tall enough even lounging in his seat that you only had to lean over a little to focus clearly on his face, all long legs and rangy muscle.

This close, he always smelled like cigarette smoke, with an undercurrent of something rich and dark, like cinnamon or chocolate. You could never put your finger on it, but you were not about to go sniffing him at any length to figure it out, even if it was annoyingly appealing.

He’d probably love that, and would absolutely never let you live it down.

Touya’s eyes tracked you closely as you worked, but otherwise his expression was still, and you thought not for the first time that it really was too bad he was so obnoxious. He was actually quite handsome, with a soft, sensuous mouth, a blade-straight nose, and vivid blue eyes that all but glowed like the embers of a crackling fire when he was provoking you.

It was a shame he wasted all his beauty being the most annoying man on earth.

You’d heard from the other maze workers that he was relatively well-known around the area, having spent his teen years doing petty criminal shit to destabilize his father’s reelection campaigns, netting himself several jail stays and a record a mile long. He’d settled somewhat since he’d gotten a job at a piercing parlor downtown and several side gigs like the maze, but people weren’t fully convinced he’d abandoned his old ways, and he still clearly relished any opportunity to discomfort and destabilize anyone who got on his bad side.

Apparently including you.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard, sweetheart,” Touya said, those cerulean eyes blinking up at you.

You realized you’d paused over him, midway through blending his prosthetic forehead in, and another annoying little smirk rode his mouth.

You took care to roll your eyes at him, gesturing at him with your brush. “I know several places I can stick this if you’re not careful.”

Touya’s smirk melted into an unholy grin. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he rasped, eyes glittering up at you.

You went back to work on him with a little more force than necessary, blending hard enough that you saw his broad shoulders shift in an effort to keep his neck braced. “I doubt any time with you could be classed as good,” you said pertly, giving a final few brushes before stepping back, satisfied with your work.

The forehead made him look unhinged as he offered another smirk, leaning forward. “True—the feedback I usually get is ‘incredible’, ‘mind-blowing’, ‘earth-shattering’, ‘toe-curling’, ‘scream-inducing’—”

“Oh I’ll scream if you keep talking,” you said hotly, even as your cheeks warmed. Even with the stupid fucking forehead he was annoyingly handsome. You needed him a thousand million miles away from you before you herniated something, jumping back and forth between annoyance and attraction.

Maybe it was time to stop signing up to work here.

“Now get out of my room, I have other people waiting,” you commanded, thankful when you heard the scuff of a boot at the door confirming another maze worker waiting.

Touya didn’t look at all chastened, but he unfolded himself from the chair in an unfurling of broad shoulders and long legs. He leaned in close as he passed, voice dipping low. “See you later, sweetheart,” he said, a smile curling his mouth.

Annoyingly, his proximity crossed a bunch of the wires in your brain, and you fumbled before managing, “Not if we’re both lucky.”

“Stop, I’ll blush,” he drawled, another unholy grin splitting his cheeks before he saluted two fingers at you and ducked out of the room. The scent of smoke and cinnamon followed him, and you let out a sigh of relief, the air and your brain clearer now that he was gone.

No sooner were you free of him, however, than another problem was immediately introduced.

“So…he actually talks to you?” The other maze worker’s head poked through the door, her eyes resting on you intently. You recognized her as a local highschooler who’d just joined this season, who usually ended up getting in early enough to get her makeup done by the other artist.

You blinked. “I…unfortunately?” you answered, confused.

She stepped into the room, and you reflexively gestured her over to the chair that Touya had just abandoned.

She hummed as she took her seat, eyeing you curiously. “Wow. How’d you get him to do that? He doesn’t really talk to any of us,” she informed you.

You could feel your eyebrows lift towards your hairline. “He…doesn’t…?”

She shook her head, her pretty golden ringlets swaying with the motion. “He’ll chainsmoke with Tomura and he sometimes talks to Himiko. But the other girls—they say he just laughs and walks away if they try to chat with him.”

Well. That sounded rude enough to be true to form, you thought. But when Touya was in your makeup chair you couldn’t get him to shut the hell up. You shifted, uncomfortable with the idea that Touya had any special soft spot for you. Maybe, like a cat, he could sense who didn’t much like him and decided to latch on out of spite.

“You might be a little young for him,” you decided, going over to the vanity and digging out the prosthetics she’d need—a witch chin and a raised gorey slash that would open along one cheekbone.

“No—it’s all the other girls too. And most of the guys,” she told you. “He must like you.”

A laugh escaped you, and you turned back to her with the prosthetics in hand, a few new brushes and a white, cakey paint palette shoved beneath your elbow.

“I don’t think he likes anyone,” you told her, setting everything down and applying the tacky glue to the underside of her chin prosthetic. “I think he just likes to inflict himself on people he knows it will annoy. You could act disinterested in talking to him and he’d probably come flitting right over.” The image of Touya suffering at the hands of a league of flirty high school girls pleased you—better they suck up his time and energy than you.

“I don’t know,” the girl said uncertainly. “Maybe he likes you.” But she was forced to leave it at that once you started applying her chin, making it difficult for her to speak.

You certainly didn’t think that was the case.

But the seeds of doubt had already been sown, a question that you thought would probably haunt your evening now that it had been formed. Just why did Touya talk to you if he was so standoffish with other people? And what did it mean that he made such a point of it?

You knew for sure it wasn’t because he liked you, his obnoxious manner said that well enough. But why did you get treatment that was significant enough that even the other maze workers would comment on it?

And, perhaps even more concerningly, why did the thought agitate you so much?

You decided to try your best not to think about it, and have a good time with your friends once they got there, putting Touya out of your mind. You returned to doing the girl’s makeup with vigor, suddenly as eager to get her out of your chair as you had been Touya.

She was finished in record time and she thanked you, carefully not to smile too widely lest she dislodge the prosthetics. You took in the next person waiting as she left, slowly working your way through the line of people as the hour drew ever closer to the maze’s evening opening time.

Eventually you finished up and collected your things, making your way out front to find your friends already waiting for you. They’d clearly dressed with the intent to go out after—something you hadn’t considered—their dresses short and slinky and their makeup smoky. You’d have liked to have joined, but you were still in the sweater and leggings you’d come straight from lectures in.

Maybe you would have time to go home and change after the maze.

You were scooped up into several hugs, breathing in the sweet scents of various perfumes, and informed that you absolutely did have to go home and get changed after so you could come out and get “Hallowasted!” too.

“Okay if I’m not busy peeing my pants, which monsters are the ones you did?” your roommate asked, dancing around to warm herself in the cool fall air. “I wanna see ‘em.”

You named several of your creations, conveniently leaving off Touya. You knew that if your friends took too close a look at him and figured out what he looked like under the cakey makeup and forehead prosthetic, they’d never leave the maze. You knew he sat somewhere around the end of the set up, in an alcove that had been decorated to look like an abandoned village with burned out cabins, a mess of bones dotting the ground at the side of the walkway.

You were also hoping you could pass unnoticed in the group of your friends, as there was no doubt in your mind that Touya would take special care to annoy you in particular. So you did not want your group to linger long enough for your friends to scope him out.

You would know it was him under the makeup you’d done yourself, but being cornered somewhere in the dark with the soundtrack of screams echoing in your ears would not exactly have you feeling your boldest.

Your group had dinner at the food trucks parked out front, chatting and laughing and waiting for the crowds to die down, each indulging in one drink for bravery before joining the line. Eventually you ended up at the front of the queue, late in the evening, your friends crowding in behind you, whispering nervously.

“You first,” your roommate hissed when you looked back at them questioningly. “You work here, you have to do the honors.”

You sighed, accepting your fate, making a mental note to subtly shift to the back of the pack as you made it further into the maze.

Then you were being greeted by Shigaraki Tomura, whose makeup you’d done last. He’d been given layers of prosthetic peeling skin and a scar at his mouth, and he was decorated with a layer of disembodied hands gripping him all over. He shredded your tickets, looking unenthused.

“Remember that inside the maze, none of the monsters can touch you,” he recited dully. “You are not permitted to touch them in return; do not hit, kick, push, bite, slap, lick, scratch, or otherwise assault the actors. Don’t tamper with the props, do not leave items behind. Be respectful of other guests and do not linger too long in the rooms. If you need to leave for any reason, every room or alcove has clearly-lit exits marked in red.”

His eyes briefly met yours as he waved you through, and you thought you saw a pale brow go up.

But then you were being shoved forward by your friends, several hands clinging to your arms and the back of your shirt, and you stepped forward into the dark of the hall.

The maze truly was a labyrinth—it started indoors in a pitch black room, with fake body bags hanging from the ceiling. Toga Himiko, a highschooler whose makeup you usually did, stalked you around the edges of the room, dressed in a torn school uniform with fangs peeking out of her widely grinning mouth, and a dripping knife clutched eagerly in her fingers.

Once you made it past her, the maze spilled outdoors, into a tangle of hedges and artificially-constructed set, steering you in twisting loops around the property.

You were pleased with how terrifying all the actors looked, even having done most of their prosthetics yourself, and found your heart racing as you took every new corner, found yourself freezing up and stumbling back whenever someone jumped out at you, suppressing a shriek.

Your friends participated with gusto, shrieking and ducking away from the monsters, holding you like a human shield between them and the maze workers. You would have been insulted if it hadn’t been so funny.

You made it through most of the maze with little trouble, passing through a haunted swamp, a graveyard with mummies twisting and screaming in their bindings, grasping for you. You stumbled past a man wielding a chainsaw and a set of clowns waving axes, making it through in record time thanks to the push of your frantic friends behind you.

It was only on the last leg of the maze that you finally ran into Touya.

You peered around the corner, recognizing the set up instantly. The burned out houses flickered with blue flame, lighting up the set in an eerie, unsettling sapphire light. The fake bones on the ground sat in piles of ash, glowing stark white in the light. You couldn’t spot Touya anywhere, and you slowly crept forward, trying to shepherd your friends in front of you.

You even almost thought you had been successful, until a rasping voice drawled behind you, “Hello sweetheart.”

And then your roommate screamed, bolting forward, knocking into you and sending you stumbling over a pile of the fake bones. You landed hard on your ass in the patchy grass, the wind punching out of you.

“Oh fuck—” you heard one of your friends say as she too was steamrolled, and you watched the group of them trip over one another in their desperation to get through the alcove, dissolving into chaos in a matter of seconds.

You quickly tried to get to your feet to follow, but a hiss forced its way through your teeth when you tried your ankle, a wave of sharp pain washing over you.

Oh fuck. Not good.

The tread of a boot in the grass next to you made you jump, and your head whipped up to catch sight of Touya crouching over you.

“You good down there?” he asked. His eyes glinted in the dark of the maze, and the blue light cast shadows over his features, twisting them in the dim. Your heartbeat picked up, even as your brain recognized him for who he was.

You cringed, embarrassed that you’d had to hurt yourself in his part of the maze specifically. It figured.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to climb to your feet again. Your ankle twinged in protest, and Touya must have caught the flash of pain on your face because then his hand was under your elbow, supporting you as you rose in an unexpected show of courtesy.

Although he broke the illusion immediately when he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah you look real fine,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. With the prosthetic forehead it made him look sort of demented.

“Well I’ll be fine,” you insisted, even as those blue eyes flickered over you assessingly. His fingers tightened a little on your arm before he bent down, tapping his other hand on your leg.

“Which leg, sweetheart?” he asked. “And where?”

It took you a minute to catch up to what he was asking, confused at seeing him on his haunches before you. A scream went up in the background, some terrified maze goer, and a little shiver went down your spine.

“Uh, the left ankle,” you supplied, startling when Touya’s fingers slid underneath the cuff of your legging over the aforementioned ankle, rolling it up gently. You blinked, surprised at the careful touch.

“Can’t see too well in the dark,” he announced. “But it looks like you ripped it open on something.” He peered back up at you. “Think it’s sprained?”

You shook your head. “Probably just rolled. It hurts but not like go-to-the-hospital level,” you said. “Just give me a minute, I’ll be good.”

Touya considered you for a moment, then got to his feet, moving closer. That scent of smoke and cinnamon drifted over to you, and he bent his head to look into your face.

“Much as you’re the most terrifying thing in this maze, I don’t think people are gonna wanna see you here,” he told you, a smirk cutting into his mouth. “Would ruin the experience. So we’re gonna have to get you out of here.”

You scowled up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Well no thanks for the concern, then. “I’m going, I’m going, keep your shirt on,” you told him, preemptively gritting your teeth before readying yourself to take another step.

But before you could, one of Touya’s hands was suddenly sliding under your knees, his other slipping behind your shoulder. In the next second the burning buildings were swinging wildly in front of your eyes, and then you were being hefted up into Touya’s arms. You let out a startled yelp, your own hands shooting out to grab his jacket, giving him a wild-eyed look.

“Touya—!” you garbled out, as a smile pulled at his expression.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he told you, looking a little too smug about the situation he’d just put you in. He strode towards the exit, kicking the door open with a heavy boot, carrying you down the hall and back into the building. He was hard with wiry muscle underneath you, and so deliciously warm against you. Your ears went hot with every sure, easy step he took, like carrying you was little effort for him.

Thankfully it was barely a minute before you reached the staff room, where Touya laid you out gently on the couch, much more carefully than you might have expected from him.

Your cheeks and your nose burned, flaming even hotter when he squatted down in front of you and took your ankle in his hand again.

His dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he took note of your injury. In the light you could definitely see that you’d caught your ankle bone on one of the fake bones you’d tripped over, as there was a long gash up the side of it, but nothing else looked bruised or otherwise concerning. You thought you’d probably be fine in a couple hours, just a roll.

It was definitely nothing Touya had needed to princess carry you through the staff halls for!

“Don’t move,” Touya told you, and you watched, bewildered, as he stepped away, stalking over to the other side of the room where the staff lockers were. He dug out a shabby backpack, pulling something out of it, and then returned to your side, spreading out his haul on the couch next to you.

You noted a little tube of rubbing alcohol, an antiseptic cream and a bandage, as well as an ice pack. One of your eyebrows went up.

“You rob a hospital or something?” you asked reflexively, heart fluttering a little bit weirdly when Touya’s eyes flickered back up to yours. His eyelashes were long and thick, startlingly pretty.

“Nah,” he said, his gaze cutting suddenly away from yours. “Usually keep shit on hand for my burns.”

Your stomach flipped, and you realized how rude your question had been. Embarrassment welled up in a hard lump in your throat. Well shit. “Oh—fuck. Of course. I’m sorry, Touya.”

A pinch to your leg had you yelping, and his handsome face was serious when he stared back up at you, his eyes practically glowing with intensity. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

You rolled your eyes, rubbing the skin he’d pinched absentmindedly. “It wasn’t sympathy, asshole,” you said. “It was an apology for being thoughtless. Although if that’s how you’re gonna be then I take it back, geez. As if you need sympathy when every girl in this maze—” you froze, clamping your mouth shut when you realized what you’d been about to say. “Uhhhh.”

Touya’s eyes slowly slid down your face, flickering over you as another fucking obnoxious smirk started to twitch at the side of his mouth. “When every girl in this maze what?” he asked, pleasure turning his tone a little silky.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to grab the rubbing alcohol off of the couch so you didn’t have to look at him. “When every girl in this maze would like for you to shut up and stop asking questions,” you said, unscrewing the top with a deliberate focus.

Calloused fingers came up to yank the tube out of your grip, however, and Touya leaned in, his grin sharp and white.

“Lemme do it, sweetheart. Return the favor for my prosthetic,” he said. You winced, remembering how forcefully you’d applied his forehead earlier. As you braced yourself, however, his fingers brushed gently over your skin.

You suppressed a shiver at the feeling of him wiping off the blood with the rubbing alcohol, then going over it with the antibiotic cream, smearing it delicately, your nose going hot again. He took his time, careful to cover every inch, kneeling on the ground in front of you with your ankle clutched in one large hand. His duster fanned out behind him, dragging on the ground as he bent over you, but he didn’t seem to care, too absorbed in his task.

When he was done he carefully applied the bandage too, and you looked on, mystified, as he cracked the ice pack with long, strangely elegant fingers, and pressed it over your ankle bone as well.

His eyes flicked back to yours when you let out a short hiss, feeling the zing of the ice all the way in your teeth. Some of his expression looked squashed, given the obstruction of his prosthetic, but you thought he looked maybe just a little bit concerned, before he realized you were just being a baby. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to rip off his prosthetic so you could see his expression in full, and had to pin your arm to your side to stop yourself.

“This was—unexpected,” you admitted, watching him closely. “You’re…a surprisingly good nurse, Touya. Thank you.”

His answering smile was nothing short of wicked. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You fumbled with the antiseptic and sniffed pointedly, just to have something to complain about. “Well. Your bedside manner could use some work.”

Touya leaned in, his smile suddenly going dark. “Oh, angel, now that’s not what I’ve been told—”

Your palm shot out to cover his mouth, horror overriding your normal brain function. Touya just laughed into the skin of your hand, however, shockingly boyish and sweet-sounding.

You pressed harder, hissing at him to shut the hell up, until you registered the feeling of dry, raised skin under your fingers. You jumped, realizing you were pressing down on his scars.

“Shit, did I hurt you—?” you asked, yanking your hand back, only for Touya to catch your wrist. He blinked, looking surprised that he had.

“No it’s—you didn’t—” he said. His fingers shifted over yours and his eyes darted over your hand in something like shock. “They get dry and pull but they don’t—it wasn’t that.” He sounded annoyed, but not that you’d touched him. That you’d pulled away from touching him.

Somehow, that settled you. Before you understood what exactly was possessing you, you reached back in, satisfied when Touya let you. The pads of your fingers met the edge of a scar again, feeling along the seam. You carefully traced over it the way Touya’s had just traced the cut on your ankle.

Touya’s eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a slow breath. “You don’t need to touch ‘em, sweetheart,” he said finally.

He said it as lightly as he’d said all his earlier nonsense, but he’d been giving you shit for long enough that you recognized there was something deliberate about the ease of his tone this time. This wasn’t his usual, natural timbre.

“Does it bother you?” you asked.

It seemed to take him a minute to decide.

“...No,” he answered, those cerulean eyes catching on yours again. You felt like you could feel your heartbeat in your own fingers, and your skin prickled with something—annoyingly not annoyance.

“Well then shut up,” you told him. “Or I’ll pinch you right on the seam.”

Touya laughed, a slow rolling sound. “Promises promises,” he said, but he seemed more relaxed.

You felt along the contours of his face, mystified by what the hell you thought you were even doing, until you reached the edge of the prosthetic you’d applied. It only took a second for you to give in to the impulse you’d had earlier and start peeling it from his skin, slow and deliberate.

You reached down and helped yourself to the rubbing alcohol, applying it around the prosthetic, letting it dissolve the adhesive before pulling gently. Shockingly, Touya let you do it. He just sat there, watching you with an intensity you’d never experienced before, hardly blinking.

You kept careful track of the prosthetic, unable to look him in the eye, focusing on rubbing off the makeup you’d used to blend it in for good measure. You tried not to examine the weirdly satisfied feeling that settled in your stomach when his natural face was visible to you again.

It was probably just his looks. He really was so handsome for such a grating personality.

You set the prosthetic aside, lost on where to go from here. Touya probably thought you were so fucking weird for just like, rubbing his face like he was some kind of cat. He certainly looked like he had no idea what to do now, which was such a departure from his usually snotty self-assurance that it threw you for an even bigger loop.

“Always thought you’d be a little rougher with me, sweetheart,” Touya finally managed, flashing you a smirk. It looked a little smaller than usual though, like he was drawing it up like a shield, but your hackles raised instantly, like always.

You always, always responded to him.

“Trust me, that can be arranged,” you promised darkly, trying to crack your knuckles. Only one of them crackled obligingly, however, and Touya blinked, before laughing again.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning in closer. Cigarette smoke and cinnamon clouded your senses, fogging up your brain. “Gonna fuck me up nice and good, sweetheart?”

You dredged around for something snarky to say, but words were suddenly failing you as those infuriatingly pretty features drew closer. Seriously could a makeup artist not catch a break around here?

“Uhhh,” was all you managed, your brain bluescreening, as Touya huffed a laugh, exhaling over your mouth.

“Shut up,” you finally spat out, catching a fistful of that black hair. Touya groaned, however, looking like he liked that of all things, and a red hot flash of something jolted through you.

There was a pause, then, a tiny sliver of a moment where it seemed like one of you might pull back—move away and snipe at one another from a safer distance.

Things somehow seemed to be spiraling out of control, in a way you hadn’t expected, after just one kind gesture from him. You didn’t really understand how you’d suddenly found yourself with him leaning over you, your hand pulling at his hair, but if you had any good sense you’d have pulled away immediately and told him something extra mean, just for good measure.

Except then Touya opened his mouth and escalated things, as usual.

“Make me,” he said, the most absolutely heinous line of all time. You yanked his hair harder, deeply disgusted that he’d try that on you.

And then, like a thread had snapped, you leaned forward and crushed your mouth to his.

Touya reacted like a lightning strike. He surged up over you, weighing you down into the staff room couch. He tasted like spearmint muddled under bitter smoke, and he was broader than he looked under that duster, heavy with lean muscle. You could feel every kilo of it press you down into the cushions as Touya licked hot and filthy into your mouth.

His tongue curled around yours, wet and teasing, and he exhaled on a groan like he’d never tasted anything better. It sent little sparks of electricity jittering up your spine, especially as he shifted between your thighs, that trim waist slotting between them perfectly.

“Fuck, angel,” he said, his tone somewhere between sweet and nasty. “Wanted me this whole time, huh?”

You yanked harder on his hair, telling him to shut up, but the swelling of something hard against your thigh told you he only liked that more. “You are so nasty,” you told him, and you could feel his mouth curl into a wicked grin against the side of your face, before he leaned in and bit the shell of your ear, grinding the evidence of his interest even harder into your thigh.

“I can show you nasty, sweetheart,” he promised, his tone going silky-soft again. A calloused hand slid up into your shirt brazenly, long fingers teasing the underside of your bra. When you didn’t immediately try to yank him out of there he wiggled in further, until his fingers met your nipples, and he got even harder against your leg.

He pinched carefully, moving back to kiss you again so that the sound that escaped you was muffled into his mouth. He kissed you harder as your nipples tightened, pebbling in his fingers, something far too satisfied filling the air around you. His hips canted up, grinding himself into you again, this time a little closer to your core.

Your own hips shifted, moving to increase the friction, trying to shift him closer to your center. His fingers and tongue teased you, each flick of his tongue mirroring the caress of a finger, the soft pinch of his index and thumb.

You couldn’t have controlled yourself if you wanted, too focused on the sensations he was drawing from you, the desperate need to get closer to him though you were already pressed together from mouth to shin. You realized you’d been pulling at his coat when he finally withdrew from your shirt and let you yank it down his arms, exposing a patchwork of scars over dense, mouth-wateringly well-defined muscle.

You inhaled sharply, and Touya paused for a minute—until he seemed to realize that you were fixated on the shape of his arm, rather than the purple bruise of scar tissue. The quickening of his grin in the corner of your vision told you that you’d pleased him.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice obnoxiously sweet. “Want to see the rest of me, angel?”

You ripped your eyes off of his arm to glare at him, which only made his grin wider. The fluorescent lights behind him limned his hair in a pale light, blinding you when he moved his head—and all of a sudden you recalled where you were and what you were doing.

“Here? No! Touya, anyone could walk in!” you said, trying to scramble out from beneath him.

Touya caught you around the thigh, hauling you back underneath him. You noticed he was careful to angle your leg up so you didn’t catch your ankle against the arm of the couch.

“This is far from the worst thing I’ve done in a public place,” he said, laying himself back out over you.

You pushed at his shoulder though, casting a worried glance back at the door. “I am not trying to get fired,” you hissed, even as you shivered with the delicious heat of him over you.

Touya sighed through his nose, and then heaved himself off the couch. You watched him seize the plastic makeup chair and haul it over to the door, stuffing it under the knob at an angle so that it held the lock in place. Then he turned around and prowled right back to you with predatory intent. Your stomach fluttered.

“Better, angel?” he asked, tone soft.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of nodding, but he seemed to know what you wanted anyway, leaning back in to kiss you fiercely.

You melted into the feeling of his mouth over yours, kissing him back just as passionately. You hated how good he was at that, hated how pretty he was under all those scars and piercings, hated how his obnoxious personality wasn’t even a factor in what you wanted to do with him right now.

Touya groaned again when you pulled at a fistful of his dark hair, and then you were dragging him down to the couch and climbing into his lap. Touya seized your left leg as you did, pointedly guiding your ankle away from the edge of the seat, and it only inflamed your desire for him.

“Like you a whole lot better like this,” he said into your mouth, as calloused fingers slid into your leggings.

Your reply was cut off by a moan as he traced his index finger lightly over the center of your panties, before pressing down firmly over your clit. A thousand little points of electricity lit up under your skin, and you shifted into his hand unthinkingly.

A smile formed against your lips, and it was only Touya’s hand making its way into your panties that suppressed the annoyed buzz that started in the back of your brain.

“You kick up such a fuss, sweetheart, but look at what you really think of me,” Touya purred as his fingers slid up into your incriminatingly wet folds. “All this for me, angel?”

You wanted to bite him for his cheek but you feared breaking the skin of his scars, so you settled for giving him a pointed look. He just laughed, his smile smug.

“I’ll show you what I’ve really thought of you too, sweetheart,” he promised, taking hold of your leg again to slide your leggings and panties down. He settled you back over the hard line in his pants, grabbing your hips and pulling you firmly down over it, grinning.

“Love when you’re a spitfire little fucking brat. I’ve imagined taking you right over the vanity every single day for the last three years, sweetheart. Taking you against the lockers and then right here over the couch. Fucking you so hard that you scream and everyone comes running in to see you squirming and crying and begging on my cock, and you want it so much that you don’t even care—”

He laughed when he felt you clench up in his lap, working to unbuckle his belt and free himself, immediately angling you over him. “You want that too, sweetheart? Want to see if I can make you scream so loud that people come to see what’s wrong?”

“My god you never shut up,” you told him, pointedly avoiding the question. In lieu of an answer, you shifted, guiding him to your center and sinking down onto him instead. You watched with satisfaction as he threw his head back and hissed at the feeling of you slipping down around him.

“Fffffffffffuck,” he said to the ceiling, a hand tightening in your sweater. You had to agree, gritting your teeth with the delicious slide of him inside of you, hot and thick and full and perfect. You leaned in, putting your mouth over the scar tissue on his neck, smirking when he exhaled shakily again.

“I think,” Touya huffed. “I should have put you over my lap three fucking years ago.”

You thought back to your first glimpse of him, flicking ash at you as he chainsmoked outside the maze entrance, and thought you would have probably gouged his eyes out if he had tried. Honestly he’d barely scraped together enough good will with his little ankle treatment as it was.

But maybe this is what that girl had been talking about, when she said Touya didn’t talk to anyone besides you. Had he really been more into you than he’d let on, these three years? Is that why he’d been at your throat this entire time?

The thought was lost when Touya’s hips lifted into yours, grinding himself into you just right, and your head fell back with a shivery moan. Touya’s mouth found the skin of your throat and sucked as he bucked up into you, picking up into a faster pace. You rocked back and forth over his lap, guided by Touya’s grip on your hips, relishing in the feel of him inside of you.

His fingers slid back down, brushing over your clit, and you bit down a yelp as he dragged his thumb over it firmly.

“That’s it,” he said, biting down softly on your neck. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You pressed a hand over your mouth instead as he slid in and out of you, those clever fingers working you deftly. He pinched softly, then swirled the pad of his thumb firmly over your clit again, groaning and pounding up into you. “I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Always want to hear your mean little mouth.”

“Touya—shut up—” you panted as he moved you how he wanted, played you like an instrument. Between his fingers and the hard press of him inside you, you felt like you couldn’t escape the pleasure, the feeling mounting within you. No matter how you moved your hips, his fingers were there to meet you, rubbing maddening circles, teasing you mercilessly, and he filled you so good that it felt like he was pressing against that spot from the inside too.

You writhed with the feel of him, as he steadily covered your neck and shoulders with marks of his attention. You couldn’t help but moan, much much louder than you would have liked, and Touya leaned back to look at you again, looking pleased.

“That’s it, yeah,” he said, another grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Louder for me, sweetheart. Want you to come for me.”

You huffed, unable to do anything but squirm in his lap, chasing the feeling closer, ever closer to the edge. You weren’t going to let his infuriating attitude ruin this for you, not when you were so close—

Without input from your brain, your hand reached out to grab a fistful of Touya’s hair again and his hips stuttered, slamming up into you with more force than he had previously. He looked a little shocked, and then a little dazed, and the grip he had on the side of your hip tightened almost to the point of bruising as he forced you down onto him harder, gasping.

“Fuck, yeah, sweetheart—fuck yes,” he rasped.

His fingers rubbed you harder, and his hips slapped up into you frantically. The uptick in intensity had your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head, and you bit your palm to keep the sounds in.

Touya ground into you with a renewed fervor, and it was only another matter of seconds before something inside of you was being wrenched loose. You lost the grip on your control, every nerve ending in your body lighting up and coming alive, singing with pleasure. You seized up, crying, “Oh my god, Touya!” and then you were cumming hard, harder than you ever had, Touya’s talented fingers still working you, his cock still fucking you mercilessly.

Touya swore, spitting out your name like a curse, and then again in almost reverent tones, before he too was following you right off the edge. He slammed you down on him once, twice, and then he was cumming too—shivering against you as he held you tight against him.

The silence of the room around you was ringing, once you managed to return to yourself. Touya was a long, hot, hard wall of muscle between your thighs, his hair mussed and a patch of makeup you’d missed smearing into the hair at his temple. His cheeks were flush with effort over the seam of his scars, and he looked, irritatingly, even more beautiful than he usually did.

Like he could sense what you were thinking, the corner of his mouth rose as those cerulean eyes searched over you, blinking like a pleased cat.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I knew I liked you mean,” he said, his raspy tone rougher than normal.

“And I don’t like you at all,” you sniffed, though you knew the protest was pointless when he was quite literally softening inside of you. You let go of his hair, remembering yourself.

“Aww angel don’t be like that,” he drawled, his grin widening. He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss over your mouth. “I can make it up to you—all three years, if you’ll let me.”

You knew he felt your involuntary shiver, pressed up against you like he was. And that was definitely answer enough for him, as his smile went more handsome and boyish than you’d ever seen it. You hated that you liked it.

“I’ll clean up and clock out,” Touya told you, gingerly helping you off of him and back into your leggings, his eyes fixating a little too closely on your legs as you did so. “You tell your friends you’re gonna go home and rest that ankle. And I’ll pick you up out front, angel.”

You flushed, embarrassed that you’d completely forgotten that you were at work, and you’d intended to go out bar hopping after. But you figured you could be forgiven just this one time.

“Fine,” you said, though your insides were feeling a little fluttery at the thought of leaving with Touya. “But I expect penitence or there’s going to be a reckoning.” You supposed you were owed, for all these years of suffering.

Touya looked down at you from under his lashes, dark and beautiful and still as infuriating as ever. “I’ll give you my best, sweetheart. Over and over until you can’t even walk,” he promised, “Gotta keep you off that ankle, after all.”

You flushed again, yanking your sweater down over your leggings, and fled out the door. Touya’s laughter floated after you, sounding pleased.

You sped up your pace, your ears burning.

And if you were actually rushing not to get away from him, but to return to him sooner? Well, then, nobody needed to know that but you.

[touyaism]

better than him — touya todoroki

(cross posted from ao3)

wc: 5,272

content: your boyfriend cheated on you, again, and your older brother isn't pleased (or is he?)

warnings: dubcon, incest, minor voyeurism

You nearly threw your phone at the wall when you got the message.

The text was wordless, with only a single video attached from your best friend. It didn’t need an explanation; the video spoke for itself. Your boyfriend was with another girl again, even in the dull atmosphere of the club and through the bad quality of the Snapchat recording, you could make out his stupid face and the hickeys on his neck as clear as day. The taller woman was all over him, hands digging into his hair, pulling his face closer to hers, and you watched as he smiled against her, letting her do as she pleased like he had every right to do so.

You’d had enough, you opted for screaming into your pillow just to let some of the rage out. You could still hear the video blaring on your phone, the club's loud music sounding obnoxiously through the small device. Part of you wished you’d shown up to that event tonight, just so you could be there to beat his ass.

But no, instead, here you were, at eleven in the evening, screaming into your poor fluffy pillow. It felt good, sure, but you still felt like punching something (someone) afterwards. You slapped the pillow a few times, but it didn’t suffice (shocker).

You were only snapped out of your rage when someone knocked on your bedroom door.

“Hey,” Touya said, monotone and evidently fed up with your drama already. “The hell’s gotten into you?”

Your brother had weird ways of showing he cared, even though he would never admit to it. And more often than not, he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Go away,” you groaned. You weren’t in the mood for this. Not when you felt like punching someone.

“No,” he said, typical, and then somehow, forced your locked door open.

The sight he was presented with was you on your stomach, face planted into your pillows and your hair completely dishevelled. You kicked your feet on the bed out of frustration, the stuffies and blankets falling off your bed in the process.

“Fucking hell,” he took a step inside and shut the door behind him, locking it. “What I’m getting from this is that you’ve been possessed, am I right?”

“Sure feels like it,” you groaned through a mouthful of pillows, the anger laced in your words perfectly.

“Oh? What’s this?” He said with a smirk. You heard him shift closer and heard the sound of the video change as he took the phone. He rewound it to the beginning, and when he fully understood what was happening, he laughed like he wasn’t surprised at all. As frustrated as you were, you didn’t blame him. You knew he always hated the guy, and obviously, it was for good reason.

“What did I fucking tell you?” And at last, he turned your phone off so the video would stop playing. “Fuck, you want me to kill him for you?”

“No,” you said, finally turning over onto your back so you could face him. He was already in his pyjamas, red flannel pants and a plain white tee that sat perfectly on his frame. And by the way he was standing, you could tell he was angrier than he was letting on.

“Fuck, I wanna be the one to do it,” you continued.

He laughed at that, taking a seat on the end of your bed, picking up a few of the stuffies that had fallen off as he did so. You sat up to face him better, not bothering to readjust your clothes on your body. One of your loose straps was sliding down your shoulder, but it didn’t matter, not when you were comfortable around him. He was your family, after all.

“I don’t wanna see him with you again, got it?”

“Yeah, whatever,” you smiled, you knew he was serious by the way he was glaring at you, and you knew your brother well enough to know he wouldn’t hesitate to kill for you.

“That didn’t sound very convincing, swear it to me.”

“C’mon, Touya, who else do I have?”

“ What ?”

Oh, now you’d done it, hadn’t you?

“I need someone to keep me company, he fills the void sometimes,” you sighed. “I get lonely, you know?”

“No,” he snatched your phone from the bed, “I’m deleting his fucking contact.”

“Touya!” You reached over to grab it from him, but his free hand quickly pinned you down, your back hit the bed, and he hardly flinched as you struggled against him.

“Fuck, where is he? You got him under a fake name?”

“Touya!” You squirmed some more to no avail. “Let go!”

“No, fucking tell me where you put him,” he said, gripping onto your wrist tighter, but not once taking his eyes away from your phone screen, angrily scrolling through God knows what.

How he knew your password in the first place, you had no idea.

You groaned, knowing full well there was no way out of this, “I put him under ‘No Caller ID’.”

“Wow, how sneaky,” he said sarcastically. And just like that, he turned the screen around so you could watch him delete all traces of the contact.

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, turning your face away from him. “I’ll just be fucking lonely.”

“Hey,” he tossed your phone away with little regard for its safety. “How can you say something like that when you’ve got the coolest fucking brother in the world?”

“Huh? You tilted your head teasingly, “Natuso isn’t that bad, but you know that’s not what I mean when I say I’m lonely. Natsuo can’t help with… some things.”

“Oh? Good thing I wasn’t talking about Natsuo , then,” there was a growl in his voice, and you knew you’d pissed him off, but you couldn’t help but taunt him further.

“Oh? Who’s my coolest brother then?”

With his other hand, he grabbed your free wrist, bringing it up and pinning it above your head beside the other.

“Me, and you fucking know it.”

“Whatever,” you shifted, trying to free yourself, but it was helpless, all it did was cause your clothing to become even more dishevelled on your frame. And even though you felt comfortable around him, you were beginning to feel humiliated, beneath him like this and showing off just a bit too much skin.

“You still can’t help in the ways I need, if you know what I mean,” your tone fell more serious, hoping it would convince him to back off. But if anything, he only got closer, drawing his face down, breathing just inches away from your face.

“Yeah? Why not?” He continued.

“You’re my brother, ” you tried to push him away, but he forced himself on top of you to restrict your movements, sitting so your hips were between his thighs.

“Think I give a shit?”

Your eyes widened and instantly met his. He was smirking, but you still searched his expression for any hint of humour. He had to be joking, right?

“What?” You shifted beneath him again, trying to ignore the odd way his body was pressing against yours, his crotch dangerously close to your own. You moved, not liking the way it only made him smile down at you harder, his grip around your wrists threatening to cut off the circulation. You really were trapped, and if it was anyone else, you’d probably feel scared, vulnerable and exposed like this.

“Touyaaa~” You whined, “Stop being weird, I’ll tell Mom on you.”

“Mm, will you?” His face was only inches from you now, you gulped and ground your teeth together to stay silent. There was no way you could explain something as weird as this to her, and he knew it just as well as you did. He began to close the gap between you, lips just ghosting over yours, your noses barely touching.

“C’mon,” he whispered, “I know I can be better than him.”

You felt like a stranger in your own skin, heart racing and stomach doing somersaults from the contact. You dug your nails into your trapped palms stupidly hard. He was too close, weirdly close. One hand holding your wrists in place, the other reaching down and sliding underneath your chin, eyes staring into yours like you were his prey.

You swallowed.

“You’re really serious, aren’t you?”

His tongue licked the corner of his mouth, and you pressed your knees together unconsciously. You began to wonder what would happen if you just lifted your head, just a little bit, just enough to press your lips against his. You wondered how he would taste, would it feel wrong? Would it feel just the same as it did with other guys? You wanted to know how he would kiss you, his sister, if it was rough or gentle, slow or wet and sloppy.

It took every fibre of your being to fight away those thoughts.

“Stop it, Touya,” you spat. Still mustering whatever strength you could to squirm away from his firm hold.

“Go on, call Mom,” he chuckled. That stupid grin was still painted across his face, taunting you, tempting you. And at last, he let go of your wrists. You sighed in relief, but even now, there was no way you could free yourself. Not when he was on top of you like this. Not when he was so much bigger than you. You shoved a hand out towards him and flinched when you felt his chest against your palm. It was warm, solid, and for a second, you could feel his heartbeat racing, chest heaving with heavy, frustrated breaths. You pulled away almost as fast as you touched him, but didn’t dare move again.

“Oh?” He taunted again. “Fucking fight it, go on.”

As soon as those words came out, the harshness of his language hit your ears, you were a goner. Completely and entirely lost beneath him. You couldn’t fight your body’s natural reactions much longer. And when it became unbearable to not do so, you bit the bullet, and pressed your lips to his.

And, fuck, his lips were so damn soft.

The snakebite piercings tickled your bottom lip, and when you opened your mouth to kiss him deeper, he didn’t hesitate to slide in, teasing your bottom lip with his tongue piercing and biting down gently. You tried to be gentle with him, really, to not rush into things like a starved person, but Touya was starved, hungry and angry. He kissed you like he had a fucking point to prove. A gasp slipped from you as his tongue grazed yours, and you reached up and grabbed onto his shirt with one hand, reaching up for his neck with the other.

There was a stark hardness on top of you as he straddled you. A large hardness that pressed between your legs deliciously. You broke the kiss as you rolled your hips against him, more desperate for any sort of friction than you would ever admit.

Touya laughed a bit at your desperation, “and you’re telling me I’m the one being weird.”

Fuck. You stalled yourself at that. What the fuck were you doing? You opened your eyes after pulling away from him as much as you could, but his cocky expression was unreadable.

“Oh, no” he smiled, reaching down to peck you on the lips once more, “I didn’t say to stop. ”

He rolled his hips, rolled that painfully obvious erection in his pants against your clothed pussy. You tried to fight back a moan, but your efforts in concealing your pleasure were futile when your heart was racing like this, when your breathing was speeding up like you’d run a marathon, even at only the smallest of movements.

“C’mon, sis,” he continued, placing a peck against the side of your neck, “I know you want this.”

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore his taunts, because fuck, you couldn’t deny it now, not when you’d come this far. You squirmed beneath him again, just to feel him, and as if he’d caught on, he pressed himself into you. Your imagination ran wild, making you want to know just how big it was, how it felt in your hands, inside you.

And when he groaned, you knew, well and truly, you’d reached the point of no return.

“Just once,” you breathed, “and we’ll never speak of this again, got it?”

“Mm,” light pecks on the side of your neck became wet kisses, trailing down toward your exposed collarbone. “We’ll see about that,” he muttered against your skin, and you melted beneath him.

His body ran hot naturally because of his quirk, hot hands traced your sides, playing with your loose shirt, pushing it upward and revealing most of your stomach. You let him, squirming about as if you were inviting him to take everything off.

“So eager,” he smiled, finally lifting your shirt just so it could slide over your tits, exhaling shakily at the way they sprung so easily from your shirt. You tried to cover up, but before you could, he had his hands all over you, grasping, groping, pinching.

“Touya…” The sensation was new to you, to have such warm, big hands all over you like this, like they’d been dying for this exact opportunity. “Don’t be so-”

Your words left you as quick as they came when his hot mouth met your chest, tongue beginning at your collarbones, sucking the tender flesh and making his presence known in the form of gentle hickeys and bite marks. Your back arched into the gentle pain, pressing your chest up into him. You felt him smile against your skin at your body’s reaction, not long before biting down harder, evidently craving more of your cute little reactions to him.

“Mm?” He hummed against you as if daring you to finish your sentence. You couldn’t. Your mind was blank, only Touya occupied it. Touya, your brother, and his warm mouth on your skin, wasting no time in venturing further down, making gentle marks on your tits, tracing dangerously close to your nipples and teasing your sensitivity.

And despite everything, the wrongness of it all, you wanted more of him. You wanted to feel him everywhere.

One of his fingers began tweaking your nipple, distracting you from his mouth quickly closing in around the other, circling his tongue around the gentle peak and taking it between his hot lips. The piercings on his mouth touched you in ways you’d never known possible - with a precision that had your legs shaking for him.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, looking down at him, one tit in his mouth, the other held captive by the sweet torture of his fingers. His eyes opened, icy blue and glaring at you were his next meal. Your breath hitched at the sight, but in no way were you scared.

You needed more. So much more.

You bit your lip and pushed against him, harder than before, hoping maybe he would take the hint. He bit down on your nipple, gentle, but hard enough for you to cry out his name.

“Shh,” he pulled away. “You really want someone to hear you?”

“Please,” you continued, arching your hips up into him again, this time, your voice coming out in a high-pitched, pathetically desperate whine.

And at last, one hand slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, casually slipping under and moving his hot fingers over your clothed cunt. He pressed down harder, rubbing gently where he knew your clit was, and you gasped.

“Wow,” he teased, “someone really is excited, huh?”

It wasn’t like you could help it, not when his big hands felt that good, touching and grabbing you like he knew your body better than anyone else. He shifted his body above you, giving him enough room to begin pulling down your pants. You moved your legs, making it easier for him to slip the fabric away. He tossed them toward the corner of your room, knocking something over in the process, and when you looked up to check, he pressed his lips against yours again, pushing you back down onto the bed and trapping your there, entirely bare beneath him.

He didn’t even give you a moment to breathe before his hands were tugging at the waistband of your underwear, pulling and grabbing until he gave in, tearing the material in two in one swift motion.

“Touya!”

“Hm?” His middle finger found your clit, and your eyes fell closed. “C’mon, tell me how much you fucking love all of this.”

You frowned at him, “just fucking do it.”

“Tell me,” he repeated, “tell me how much you love your brother's hands all over you.”

“Stop,” you breathed, something like dread or guilt filling your gut at his words. But judging by his expression, he felt nothing of the sort. He slid his tongue along his front teeth, maintaining that smirk like the asshole he was.

“So fucking wet for me,” he slid his finger through your folds, achingly slow. “You don’t need to say anything, I know you love it.”

You wanted to hit him, push him off your bed and call for someone to get him the hell out, but your hands were far too busy tugging on his shirt, aimlessly pulling and trying to get it off. He understood quickly, and momentarily took his hands away from you to quickly pull it over his head. He aimlessly tossed it away, and this time, you didn’t care where the hell it landed. As long as he got back to whatever he was doing.

“Poor thing,” he cooed, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles on your clit, his middle finger tracing your slit and teasing your entrance. “You know how wrong this is, but you just can’t bring yourself to fight it, can you?”

You dug your nails into his bare shoulders, almost hard enough to draw blood, but he only laughed as he pushed his finger in knuckle deep.

Without any warning, your grip on his shoulder loosened, but your whole body went tense. Even just one of his fingers filled you up so well, the warmth of it was enough to make your eyes roll back. He smirked when your hips started to buck against it when he didn’t move right away, as if he was pleased by just how desperate you were to feel more of him.

He stayed like that for a moment, simply letting you fuck yourself on his idle hand. And eventually, one finger became two, and he angled his hand in a way that allowed you to grind your clit into his palm. You could feel yourself growing wetter, spilling and leaking all over his hand. And if he hadn’t already felt it, he definitely heard it. The lewd squelching was the only sound to fill the silence except for the sound of both of you breathing, deep, heavy, and both of you undeniably desperate for more.

“Fuck,” you breathed, “don’t m-move.”

You were close already, you’d worked yourself up too much, and his fingers were too damn big, reaching every place inside you without him even having to move an inch. You were so close, and you’d gotten there all by yourself. All he had to do was stay still for a second longer.

You should’ve known Touya wouldn’t cooperate with you.

“Nah,” he pulled his fingers out, painfully slow, making sure to brush it against your clit on the way out. “Not yet.”

“F-fuck you,” you said, collapsing beneath him in an attempt to catch your breath. You heard only the obnoxious sound of Touya sucking his fingers clean above you. Groaning around them like you were the best thing he’d ever tasted.

It was fucking disgusting.

You loved it.

You wanted to know what his mouth felt like between your legs, tongue lapping you up while those big hands of his held your thighs, keeping you still for him while his shoulders forced your legs apart.

“Please, Touya,” you whined. He hovered above you, eyes raking your body as his hands came down to hold you by the waist.

“Poor thing,” he smirked, “about to cum already, and I’ve hardly done anything to you.” You shivered at his words, and when his eyes met yours again, your heart skipped a beat.

“Please-”

You were cut off by the sound of somebody moving outside. The sound of light footsteps was enough for both of you to freeze, staring at one another wide-eyed as someone made their presence known in the room next door.

Where your eyes showed fear and apprehension, Touya’s showed challenge - some sick kind of excitement. Without taking his eyes away from you, he tugged at the waistband of his pants, rough as if in a hurry to be rid of them. He made no effort to conceal the sound of his belt, tossing the heavy thing to the side of your room and allowing it to crash against the wall.

You were about to protest, to scold him and tell him to stop, but once he’d pulled his pants down enough to reveal his boxers, he held his palm over your mouth, fingers holding your jaw firmly and tilting your face up toward his. You whined as he palmed his cock through his boxers, and he chuckled when your eyes widened at the sight of it. Even through the tented fabric, you knew something that big would struggle to fit all the way inside of you. When your eyes slowly drifted back up to meet his gaze, the asshole looked way too damn pleased with himself. He bit his bottom lip with a shit-eating grin on his face, clearly more than ready to devour you, his sweet little sister, whole.

You glared at him dangerously as he pulled his boxers down, just enough to let his cock bounce out, the thing was twice as big as you’d imagined it, thick and the length of it adorned with various barbell piercings.

You learnt something new about your brother every day, huh?

The ring on his tip was larger than the rest, already glistening in precome and just begging to tease the deepest spots inside of you.

With his boxers pulled down around his thighs, Touya moved his hands down to your thighs, forcefully pulling them apart to make room for him to get even closer. You exhaled through your nose as he ran his fingers between your folds again, smiling that same cocky grin as he pushed two fingers inside of you again, curling them right against your desperately needy g-spot. You clamped your eyes shut, fearful to make even the smallest of sounds as the person just outside continued to make noise by your bedroom door. Your nerves danced in your stomach as Touya shifted closer, and when you felt his bare erection against your thigh, your stomach flipped.

His fingers left you again as soon as he felt you begin to shake, the bastard.

And then you felt him press the head against your entrance. He teased it, moving ever so slightly so the coldness of his piercing could be known, and just when it got too much, he pulled his palm away from your mouth.

You gasped for air, as if your supply was somehow going to run out. “Touya-”

“Shh,” Touya soothed as he lifted up one of your legs to rest against his chest. You allowed him to do so, but not without making the apprehension visible in your expression.

There was no way you could be quiet like this, and whoever was outside was bound to catch on.

He pressed his cheek against your calf and waited for your body to relax before carefully pushing himself all the way inside - slowly, agonisingly so, but somehow still nowhere near slow enough to allow you to adjust to his size.

And fuck, did he stretch you fucking perfectly.

You whined, pathetically and far too loudly. But that didn’t matter, because evidently, Touya didn’t give a fuck about who heard you. He pulled out and shoved himself inside with no warning as if it was his goal to break you, to provoke you, to let them hear all of your adorable sounds.

He gripped you firmly and pushed in again harder, balls slapping against your ass as he bottomed out inside you. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from crying out, and fuck, it didn’t even matter anymore, because you didn’t want him to stop. You needed him to keep moving to give you some sort of relief from the pressure in your gut. You needed him to fuck you until you forgot your own name, forgot about that stupid boyfriend of yours, and maybe so you could forget about the fact that the guy fucking you was your own older brother.

“So fucking tight,” he muttered and dragged his teeth along the skin on your leg, lips grazing your flesh hungrily. He looked down at you as you covered your face with your hands, squirming pathetically and vulnerably beneath him. He had to fight the urge to pluck them away from your face, he wanted to see how desperate you were, but your sounds told him more than enough.

“Please,” you begged, quiet enough so that only he could hear. “Go faster.”

He wanted to listen to you, every urge in his body was telling him to do just that. But more than anything, he wanted to hear you. Touya didn’t give a fuck who heard you. He wanted you to beg for it, to tell him you’ll never go back to that scum of a boyfriend and trust him instead. So he slowed down, even if it killed him to do so. He pumped out slowly, never sliding his cock in all the way, simply teasing you with the head.

“What the fuck,” you whispered through your teeth. “ Touya,” you scolded him, as if you had any right to do so as the younger sibling.

“Show me your face,” he smirked, “Come on, I wanna see you.”

You threw your hands to your sides, glaring at him as soon as your eyes made contact with his again.

What was supposed to be intimidating, a show of your frustration, only caused your stomach to sink. That same guilt, the looming knowledge that Touya was your brother, hung over your head like a bad omen of some sort. His face was usually so familiar, but not like this, not when he was looking at you like that.

“Good girl,” he cooed, pressing a kiss into your inner thigh. And fucking finally, he started moving again, hips snapping against yours unapologetically as his pace quickened.

Your entire body shook from the impact, and clearly, your poor bed frame felt it too. You cringed at the sound of it squeaking, combined with the sound of someone still lurking around in the room next door. Touya chucked, pounding into you even harder as if making as much sound as possible was his goal this whole time.

You couldn’t stop him now. You felt like you were going to split into two when he fucked you like this. You trembled and whined each time his cock bottomed out in the same spot, clashing into your sensitive walls violently, hitting places nobody had ever reached before, especially not like this. He reached places you didn’t even know you had.

“Fucking hell, Touya,” you spoke, shaky and wet as your eyes clouded with tears. You couldn’t handle it, he was too fucking big, too fucking good at this, and he’d effectively fucked you to the point of forgetting your stupid boyfriend already.

Fuck it, Touya was all you needed, it didn’t matter, not when it felt this fucking good.

“Yeah?” He said through a grunt. “Tell me how good I am, sis.”

You knew what he wanted you to say. As if it wasn’t already obvious.

“You’re-” You whined, “ fuck , you’re better than him.”

He rolled his hips into you before leaning down, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck.

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop, Touya” you cried in his ear as his head fell snugly into the crook of your neck.

He smiled, you felt it against your skin. And of course, he didn’t stop this time.

He fucked you like he meant it, like he’d been waiting for this moment to come for years. It was overwhelming, the way his cock slammed into you and all but tore you apart. His body was warm, too warm against yours, and when his mouth found your neck, teeth grazing the vein and lips sucking harshly, you just about forgot who you were. You couldn’t hold on like this. You were trying to, just to savour it longer, to take in more of him, but it was an impossible feat.

“T-touya,” you stuttered, he chucked, knowing exactly what you were trying to tell him. Your cunt clenched around him perfectly, sucking him in and teasing his release out of him too. “Touya, oh my god.”

“That’s it,” he breathed as he slammed into you impossibly hard as if he was trying to force it out of you. “Fucking come for me.”

You whined his name as you came, only barely managing to stifle the sound of it in his neck. Your entire body shook as he rocked you through it, fucking you relentlessly through your high. Tears were still threatening to spill from your eyes and your legs tightened impossibly around his waist.

“Good,” Touya groaned into your ear, “so fucking good.” You could hardly hear him, not when you were this high. All you knew was him and his cock piercing you like there was no tomorrow.

You barely registered his hips stuttering, and he dragged his teeth over your skin, earning the faintest sigh from you as he bit down even harder than before.

And finally, he came, never giving you any warning before spilling deep inside of you. You whimpered as the warmth filled you, oozing through you and spilling out around his cock as he held you there in his tight embrace. You laid there as you both tried to catch your breath, bodies sweaty and hearts pounding, both of you evidently being hit with waves of what the fuck just happened.

Someone shifted in the room next door again, reminding you of where you were,but neither of you moved. Touya only pulled out of you slowly, wincing slightly at the sight of his come spilling out of you.

He hadn’t meant to, really . (Maybe a little).

But you saw the amused smirk on his face as he sat up, and you felt your body erupt into flames. Shocked at just how fucking proud of himself he was.

He ran a single finger between your folds, gathering the evidence of him that was beginning to leak out before gently pushing it back into you. You gasped when he curled his finger, body shaking pathetically at just how sensitive you were from such a small movement. He looked so fucking proud, too proud, as he studied you, listening to your tiny whimpers and cries as he teased his little sister's oversensitive cunt.

You were fucked.

Because despite everything, you loved every second of it. The wrongness of it all, the secrecy. It all made it so much better.

“Told you,” he taunted, “you’ve got the coolest fucking brother in the world, huh?”

[touyaism]

mr compress who leaves the mask on during sex but ends up getting so worked up he has to take it off to breathe and his hair is all sweaty from it and his cheeks are red and flustered and the sweat is glistening on his forehead and and and

[baku-bombshell]

( Source )

[touyaism]

content: giving dabi head during a meeting

tw: accidental voyeurism, public

wc: 1143

Nobody even noticed that you’d left the meeting.

But that was okay, because you hadn’t, not really.

Dabi’s hand gripped the back of your head, pulling you in and between his open legs. And not caring about your pride all that much, he smashed your face into his jeans. You made some kind of muffled grunt, but you couldn’t be too loud. Not when you were beneath a table filled with Japan’s most powerful villains. Dabi knew that too, so he smashed you in again harder, forcing you to feel the stiffness that was his cock.

So you opened your mouth and obeyed, drooling all over his pants and panting with need.

The thrill of taking Dabi’s cock right beside his coworkers, the most wanted men in Japan, was exhilarating. You liked the danger, liked the threat of being caught. And with the way you could see Dabi smirking above you, you guessed he did too.

“What so funny,” someone asked him. He shrugged them off and gripped you harder, guiding you upwards by your hair and prompting you to just pull his pants down already.

Your hands tugged at the waistband, and you were glad he chose not to wear a belt today. They slipped down with enough ease, and pulling his stiff cock from his briefs was no tough chore, not when his cock was that fucking big .

You took him in your hands and felt him shiver. Cute .

You dragged your thumb along his slit, teasing the precome and rubbing it in, just to feel him do it again.

His grip on your hair tightened, and when you looked up, he was looking right at you - expression unreadable, but focused. He quickly averted his attention when Shigaraki asked him a question about their current mission.

“Yeah,” he said, casual as ever. “I’ll have that evidence in by tomorrow.”

It was insulting, just how calm he could be. You wanted to see him break - wanted to be the reason for it.

The others continued speaking, so you dragged your tongue along his length, one long stride starting from the base. You took your time on each piercing on the way up, toying with the cool metal between your tongue and coating it with your saliva.

He squirmed, just a little, but that wasn’t enough.

You circled your tongue around the head of his cock, painfully slow, taking your time and teasing more precome from him, licking it up like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

Your speed irritated him, you could feel it in the way he held you, pushed you closer as if he was trying to pass on a message. You smiled against him - a challenge, one he gladly took on.

You hardly got a moment to breathe before his fingers were diving into your mouth, gripping your jaw and forcing your lips open. The hand in your hair guided you, and he forced your mouth onto his dick.

You had no choice but to obey, and when you gasped for just one breath of air, he took the opportunity to force more of himself inside of you. You heard him sigh above you, something that would go unnoticed by his coworkers, but certainly not by you. He breathed in through his nose and shifted a little, trying to contain his obvious pleasure.

The head took up your entire tongue, and you tried your best not to whimper, but when he rolled his hips against your mouth, pushing most of his length into your throat, you couldn’t stop the muffled gagging noises. He was too fucking big for you not to gag. He groaned at the sound, evidently pleased by your struggling, a sound that again, went unnoticed by his coworkers, passed off as a simple sound of boredom.

Dabi picked up his speed, properly throat fucking you beneath the desk. Your hands desperately grabbed at his legs for support, digging into the fabric as you held back the lewd sounds of your gagging. He angled your head in a way that only made the sounds louder.

The wet glurk sounds coming from your throat only encouraged him further, he pushed your head down deep enough for it to restrict your breathing. He loved it, loved the way it made your little throat tighten around him. He loved the way he could feel you holding back your sounds, and he loved the way he was too big for you to contain them.

You felt lightheaded, but allowed him to use you as he pleased - letting him fuck any kind of rational thought away, until all you knew was his his cock in your throat.

“Dabi,” Shigaraki chimed in again, this time, his tone was stern. “The hell’s wrong with you. Open your fucking eyes.”

“Ah,” he groaned, a bit too suspiciously. “I’m close… to falling asleep.”

“Like hell you are, wake up.”

Dabi stretched, using the action as an opportunity to thrust one last time into your little fucked-out mouth. You gagged harder than before, only to be greeted with the sensation of hot cum leaking into the very back of your throat, the warmth sinking down and threatening to make you choke. Dabi held you there, despite feeling your need to cough. He ensured not a drop was lost.

When he finally pulled out, you felt your throat already beginning to ache. But he closed your mouth shut, forcing you to swallow every drop of his load before you were even allowed to think about coughing.

You obeyed, and when you looked back up at him, you opened your mouth, just to show him the end result. He smirked before turning back to someone else at the table, muttering some kind of nonsense about the new nomu’s that you didn’t really understand.

You tried to hold back your coughing, really, but it was too late. Your body reacted without your permission, and you coughed loudly beneath the desk.

The group went silent.

“Did you find it?” Dabi broke it, looking down at you with a puzzled expression on his face. “I’m sure it was down there somewhere, right?” You caught the way he smirked at you, a look that only the two of you knew what meant.

“Yeah,” another cough, “It’s here.” You picked up a broken pen, just beside the table leg, and pulled yourself up to face the group.

“Sorry,” you caught your breath, head already spinning from rising so quickly. But you took your seat, as professional as ever, right beside Dabi.

You just hoped nobody noticed how disarrayed your hair was, how your mascara had melted beneath your eyes, and how your lips were swollen and pink.

But judging by the cocky grin on Dabi’s face, it was safe to say he didn’t give a shit.

[slicesofapple]

The third time they kiss, Dabi's hand curls in Hawks's jacket, tightly, like he doesn't want to let go (he doesn't).

Like he's never going to want to let go.

[mostlyheinous-deactivated202312]

ight would anyone like to listen to the first minute of the Dabi ASMR I'm working on?

POV: You're a hero who's become Dabi's next target.

[touyaism]

punishment - touya todoroki

cw: noncon, overstimulation, toys, ropes

wc: 838

summary: dabi punishes an intruder.

You never should’ve broken into the League's hideout. You never should’ve signed up to be a hero in the first place, because honestly? You did nothing but fuck it up. 

Now you’re face up, tied to a villain's bed like a helpless little rat. And there’s nothing anyone can do to help you, since you're the only one who managed to actually locate this place. 

In other words, you were fucked. 

Literally. 

Dabi didn’t need to do much to rip your uniform from your body, a single flame was enough to burn it down the middle, helping it slip entirely from your body. A serious fault that you’d certainly have to make a complaint about to your designer. 

That is, if you even made it back to them. 

Dabi hovered over you as he tugged a thin black rope around your wrists. He secured your legs down with his body for the time being, and you were surprised at just how strong someone like him was. 

You were a pro hero, for crying out loud, and there was nothing you could do to fight him off. 

Once your wrists were tied together, he tied them to the end of the bed, stopping you from squirming away or moving away from his touch, if that was even possible at this point. You felt vulnerable, exposed, simply lying there and watching your own naked chest heave up and down as your nervous breathing sped up. 

“What are you gonna do to me?” You stuttered, your voice shaky and unsure of yourself. Dabi smirked without looking at you, he was preoccupied with grabbing something out of his trouser pocket. 

“Oh,” he muttered, “we’re just gonna have a little fun.” 

“H-huh?” 

He took out a small device from his pocket, and upon closer inspection, you knew exactly what it was. 

A vibrator. One big enough to fit all the way inside of you, while also stimulating your clit at the same time. You had one just like it in your nightstand. 

Just not- 

He’d tied smaller ropes around it, one big enough to secure the thing to your body.

"Stop!" You yelled at him, as if that was enough to save you now. "You fucking pervert!" 

"Yeah, yeah," he mulled. "Filthy fuckin' hero." 

You squirmed and resisted as best you could, but it was helpless. He crawled on top of you and laughed at your efforts, bringing the smaller rope around your frame and guiding the toy between your legs. You tried to force them shut, but he was stronger, he kept your legs apart with just one knee, and that gave him enough space to force the thing inside of you. 

You hated it - hated how you were already wet enough for it to slide in so fucking easily. He forced it deep inside of you, and didn’t hesitate before turning it up to one of the highest settings. 

“Fuck,” you cried out, “no, it’s too much!!” 

If he was going to be a pervert, couldn’t he at least make it enjoyable for you? You squirmed and writhed to no avail, wincing when the ropes began to burn your wrists. 

“That’s the point,” he muttered, securing the thing to your body tightly. The ropes might have been small, but that toy wasn’t moving - no matter how hard you tried to make it stop. “Stupid fucking hero, thinking you can get caught sneaking around without consequences? You’re dreamin’.” 

“F-fuck you,” you cried, but it was hardly audible amidst your whimpers and pants. There was too much vibration all at once. You could hardly breathe. “Are you going to kill me?” 

The villain laughed at that, “nah, got better uses for someone like you.” He looked down at you, as if pleased with his work, licking his canines and dragging his eyes all along your torso, admiring the way your tits bounced every time you tried to resist the obscene amount of pleasure. Your nipples perked up like daggers,  simply begging to be sucked on. He toyed with them between his fingers, playing with his body temperature and warming up his hands slightly as he pinched and pulled the delicate things. He licked a long stripe over one before taking it in his mouth, sucking and nipping in a way that had your eyes rolling back. 

You couldn’t take it. The vibrator fucked your clit numb, and you were already on your first orgasm, back arching and tits pressing right into his face as you soaked his sheets with your fluids. 

“Fuck,” he muttered against your skin, “that’s it.” 

But, he didn’t stop. 

His free hand reached out to press the toy deeper inside of you, forcing it against your sensitive walls, forcing it to fuck against your clit even harder. 

You couldn’t do it. Not when you were this sensitive. God, at this rate, you were going to pass out. 

“N-no,” you breathed, “it’s too much now, stop.” 

“And just why should I do that? We’re only getting started, baby.”

[touyaism]

please — touya todoroki

summary: dabi begs you to let him touch you

wc: 515

If there was one thing you knew about Dabi, it was that he got what he wanted. No matter what it was, he’d find a fucking way.

So, when you began rejecting his sexual advances, he really didn’t know how to behave.

“Not today,” you told him, despite him clinging to you like a baby, touching you everywhere, desperate to just take your clothes off.

“C’mon,” he groaned, dragging out his words, “can’t you just let me touch you?”

“I’m tired,” you said. Straight to the point and the truth, despite the fact that you did want him. If only you had the energy for it.

“Doesn’t matter,” he buried his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent and drowning himself in it. “Just let me do all the work.”

“Dabi…” you groaned, rolling over in an attempt to get him off you, but it was no use, not when he was so much bigger than you. “I just wanna sleep.”

You could feel his cock pressing against you, piercings and all. He wore nothing but his boxers, the loose fabric falling off his body with any movement. Already rock hard, he pressed it harder into your bare thigh as if to make a point.

“Sleep, then,” he protested. “I don’t care.”

“What?”

“You can sleep, just let me fucking touch you.”

“Dabi-“

“Please .”

The word caught you off guard. It wasn’t something you’d ever heard from Dabi’s mouth - let alone in such a gentle tone. You opened your eyes to look at him, only to find him glaring at you like you were his next meal, sucking in and biting his bottom lip, his eyes fixated only on your body.

Your hesitation made you pause, and Dabi used it as an opportunity to sneak his hand under your shirt. You didn’t stop him. His hand teased further, gently rising upward and grabbing your tit. He squeezed gently, thumb dragging over the nipple and toying with it. You whimpered, squirming beneath him and trying to push him away. There was no way you call fall asleep when it felt that fucking good.

“Dabiii,” you groaned again, he moaned back mockingly, teasing you for the way you dragged his name.

“Can’t help it,” he muttered, lifting your shirt up all the way and pressing his face in the space between your tits. “You’re so fuckin’ soft,” he moved his head and aligned his mouth to your nipple, taking it in his mouth and sucking. He released with a pop, swirling the hard bud around with his tongue. You couldn’t help but arch your back into the movement, relishing in the way his hot breath on your sensitive skin teased you even more.

“Dabi,” you whimpered, unsure of whether you wanted him to stop or not.

“Please, don’t make me stop,” another lick, “your tits are too fuckin’ perfect.”

You couldn’t deny him. Instead, you ran your fingers through his hair and pressed him closer, closing your eyes and drowning in the soft feeling of his hands all over your chest.

[touyaism]

dabi would be all for pet names. and more often than not, they’re the vulgar kind. whore, slut, bitch. but god forbid anybody else even thinks about calling you such things. he’ll have them as a pile of ashes on the floor before they can even finish saying the word.

[touyaism]

play fighting with dabi would be fun because he’d mostly go easy on you. he’d act weak and let you push him around like you were the boss. that is, until he’s had enough. he knows damn well he’s far stronger than you, and you’re caught completely off guard when he grabs both of your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head, turning you over and pinning you beneath his body weight.

[personnotthestatue]

Things I Wish I'd Known About Improving My Writing

People weren't kidding when they say that it's hard. Not only is writing generally pretty tedious and hard, but it's hard to learn a new skill period. So when you add the facts together, it makes me almost want to quit sometimes.

Reading really does help you become a better writer. Especially a good audiobook. I don't know what it is but somehow the flow and the word choice of the author seeps into my brain. It rubs off on me in a really great way.

It's better than I think it is. My writing isn't disgusting or impossible to consume. We're our own worst critics.

[blue-eyed-author]

Some of my writer’s block cures:

Handwrite. (If you already are, write in a different coloured pen.)

Write outside or at a different location.

Read.

Look up some writing prompts.

Take a break. Do something different. Comeback to it later.

Write something else. (A different WIP, a poem, a quick short story, etc.)

Find inspiring writing music playlists on YouTube. (Themed music, POV playlists, ambient music, etc.)

Do some character or story prompts/questions to get a better idea of who or what you’re writing.

Word sprints. Set a timer and write as much as you can. Not a lot of time to overthink things.

Set your own goals and deadlines.

Write another scene from your WIP. (You don’t have to write in order.) Write a scene you want to write, or the ending. (You can change it or scrap it if it doesn’t fit into your story later.)

Write a scene for your WIP that you will never post/add to your story. A prologue, a different P.O.V., how your characters would react in a situation that’s not in your story, a flashback, etc.

Write down a bunch of ideas. Things that could happen, thing that will never happen, good things, bad things.

Change the weather (in the story of course.)

Feel free to add your own.

[joie-de-livre-deactivated202402]

being a writer is sometimes just like

“she raised the sword - *stares out of the window for three minutes* - high above her head, its- *plays with pen* - silver skin glinting in the- *gets up and walks around the room* - golden sunlight. her face- *opens tumblr*

[touyaism]

some dabi headcanons

doesn’t eat unless he’s quite literally on the verge of passing out. he forgets + has very little concern for his own health let’s be real

generally mute. i feel when he’s not interested in something (which happens with most topics that don’t involve his own goals), he won’t speak. he’s known as the quiet one of the group

wears socks and long pyjamas to bed. it prevents the staples from catching in the sheets and staining them with blood

sensory issues. gets too hot very easily, scars get itchy and it sends him into absolute madness

cold!!! showers!!!

[riverrunscold]

Death Note plot really is just an autistic person who's constantly masking vs an autistic person who has never masked in his life