#Todoroki x Abused!Reader

[ghostbeam]

swore i could feel you through the walls | Dabi/Touya Todoroki

Dabi knows that he can’t leave you now. You belong to him, and he belongs to you, and the stars knew before either of you did. And Dabi can’t argue with fate, or destiny, or pure dumb luck, not that he wants to. He pulls your comforter up over his body. He’ll be here when you come home to him. In a place made for staying, Dabi thinks he will.

Notes: hiiiiii so this is an idea that has been bouncing around my head for like. Literal years ajsjsjsjs It’s always kind of been more of a horror idea and then I fanficified it and now it’s this! This was kind of a process and I rewrote and replanned and went over this over and over again but I think it is at a place that I am mildly happy with. It’s a completely ridiculous idea and I’m honestly a little insecure about it but fuck it!! Thanks for reading hope u enjoy<3 (title from Chinese satellite by Phoebe bridgers) listen to the playlist here!

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, f!reader, explicit content, yandere!dabi, stalking, Dabi hides in readers house without her knowledge, some paranoia, psychological abuse, slight yandere!reader, mentions of somnophillia but no actual instances of it, violence, non-consensual voyeurism (Dabi watches reader masturbate), unprotected sex, oral f!receiving, marking, biting (shoulder, neck), painplay, one mention of carving names into skin with no instance of it, mentions of blood (reader bites dabi’s neck and draws blood), use of good girl, mutual obsession

Words: 9.3k

He can’t breathe. 

Dabi runs from the low-ranked hero, surprisingly fast on his tail as the distance between the two becomes smaller and smaller. With his lungs burning, his skin irritated from quirk use, and the lack of help from his peers, Dabi realizes that he needs to find a way to lose the ice quirk user that is quickly gaining on him. 

Turning down a narrow alleyway, he’s disappointed to find that it’s a dead end. He pauses to catch his breath, keeping himself tucked tightly against the shadowy wall. Dabi surveys his surroundings, finding nothing but garbage before he looks up. He’s against an apartment building, he realizes, looking at the lights in the windows above him. 

All windows are lit except one.

Dabi doesn’t have the time to wonder about the owner, shaking his head and forcing himself up the fire escape, preparing himself to use his quirk if it comes down to it. He breaks the lock on the darkened window and shuffles inside. He falls over a stack of books that sits underneath the window, freezing on the floor as he listens for any movement throughout the walls. When he hears nothing, he stands from the floor and closes the window, creeping down the hall in search of the other rooms. There’s one bathroom and a bedroom with no one inside, and relief rushes over Dabi as he feels his shoulders relax.

Assuming you won’t be home for a while, Dabi makes his way back to the main room, turns the light on, and heads for the kitchen. He looks through your fridge for something to eat, pulling out a Tupperware of leftovers that he heats in the microwave. As he waits for the seconds to pass, he looks around the apartment. 

It sets in, then, how lived in the place is, shelves full of books, records and DVDs, art and photos against the walls, leaving almost no space for the blankness underneath. The kitchen is pink, he realizes, looking around and eyeing the various knickknacks shaped like mushrooms or kittens, unique magnets hang a mess of papers on the fridge beside post-it notes of reminders. 

He wants to hate it. It’s a complete mess, chaotic even, but he can’t bring himself to. He’s intrigued now. He ignores the beeping of the microwave and steps away from the kitchen, observing the various pictures on the walls. It’s not difficult to find the owner of the apartment, the face showing up in a multitude of snapshots. Your face.

As he looks at the walls, he finds himself stuck on you, the curve of your jaw, your lips, your eyes. You make his heart beat in his chest, excitement bubbling at the realization that he is standing in your home, in your space, right in the middle of your entire life. 

You’re beautiful. He feels his stomach drop.

The more he explores, the more he seems to like you. The Sargent print on your wall, the Rilke in your bookshelf, the numerous albums in your collection that he knows nothing about. He flips through the pages of your books, smiling at your annotations, the ink between the pages, and the tiny star you draw next to your favorite passages. He runs his fingers across the words over and over again, committing them to memory, the need to love the things you love burning in his chest. 

It’s not enough, he realizes, looking through just this room. He stalks down the hallway and turns the light to your bedroom on. And oh, how content he feels in here, a room clearly much more personal than the one out there. It’s a bit of a mess, with clothes on the floor and the bed like you’d changed out of many different outfits before leaving. The full-length mirror against your wall is peppered with postcards and pictures from magazines and those same post-it notes: call mom, pay the phone bill, need more cotton pads. So, you’re forgetful. Dabi smiles at the knowledge. 

There are string lights of stars hanging on your ceiling and lamps in the shape of flowers on your bedside table. Your bed is unmade and you have sheets with scatters of constellations on them. Your affinity for stars makes him smile, one more thing he’s found in common with you. 

It shocks him how interested he is in you, in all of the things that make up your little life. But the more he explores, the more he’s sure you’re made for him.

He looks through your closet, through your dresser, stuck rummaging through your underwear drawer. Every set of lingerie you have is some variation of blue, and Dabi can’t help but feel as though it’s for him. It’s all for him, your things, you. Fate, or the universe, or luck itself is on his side. He pockets a pair of panties that closely resembles his eyes before turning to your desk. More post-it notes are stuck to the surface, and there’s a notebook that he reaches for before your wall catches his eye. There are more photos, haphazardly taped up and not at all as organized as your living room, but he can tell they’re important to you: family photos, people he recognizes from films, rock singers, and—him. 

Dabi is on your wall.

The photo is one that went viral a couple of months back when he got into an altercation with one of the top ten heroes. He remembers the fight well because of how large his flames grew, and the damage that he did to the surrounding area, to the people, to the hero he was up against. He’s stood with his arms out in front of him, neon flames emanating from his palms as the moment in battle is frozen in time forever on your wall. You printed it out on photo paper and everything. He plucks it from its spot and turns it over. Your handwriting with his name and a heart is scrawled on the blank space. He runs a thumb over the heart, feeling his face warm up.

This isn't a mistake. You know who he is, and you’re a fan, not just of the photo itself, but of him. He wonders if you’re one of those weirdos he’s seen online with accounts dedicated to him, one of the anonymous boxes that engage in discussions about his quirk and identity, losers grasping at any detail they can that might bring them closer to the truth, or just to him in general.

But the more he thinks about it, the more excited he gets, thinking about you saving blurry pictures of his fights to your phone, watching youtube videos of him with shitty quality, and tweeting about him with stupid little emojis. He wonders if you dream of him, if you think of him while touching yourself, or if you fantasize about silly things like being a villain’s girlfriend. He likes thinking of you like this, just as obsessed with him as he’s becoming with you. 

Dabi doesn’t care what it’s called: divine intervention, cosmic love, soulmates. All are true; none capture how this feels. 

Your laptop is password protected and his name doesn’t work when he tries, so he moves on from your bedroom. Entering your bathroom, he looks through your medicine cabinet, analyzing your meds and products as he searches for every bit of information he can. He looks at the lipstick that sits on the counter and debates putting it on in the form of an indirect kiss but decides to pocket it instead. He sprays each and every one of your perfumes, deciding which is his favorite, and throwing the one he dislikes out the window he came through, watching it shatter against the cement.

He pulls back the shower curtain and begins to strip, turning the water on and letting the heat hit his worn-out body. He hasn’t felt water pressure this good in years. He uses your shampoo, your conditioner, your rose-scented soap, even though it’s sure to irritate his scars. He uses everything he can to be close to you, to smell like you, to have any piece of you even though you’re not here. 

When he’s done, he lays in your bed, against the sheets that you occupy every night except tonight, and stares up at the string lights above him. He picks up the stuffed bear with angel wings that sits against one of your pillows, caressing the ears between two fingers. He thinks about you, about the things he doesn’t know, details you don’t have plastered to your walls or hidden between pages of poetry books. He wants to know what makes you laugh, what makes you cry, how you’d look undone beneath him.

Dabi knows that he can’t leave you now. You belong to him, and he belongs to you, and the stars knew before either of you did. And Dabi can’t argue with fate, or destiny, or pure dumb luck, not that he wants to. He pulls your comforter up over his body. He’ll be here when you come home to him. In a place made for staying, Dabi thinks he will. 

He can finally breathe. 

…

The keys to your apartment chime against your door as you move to unlock it, hoards of keychains rattling against each other as you push the heavy door open. It slams shut behind you and you toss your keys onto the kitchen counter, hauling your suitcase behind you. The familiar pang of loneliness hits you immediately as you look out over your crowded apartment. 

“I’m home.” You mutter softly, running your fingers over the plush fabric of your couch. 

No matter how much you try to distract yourself with books and posters and comfortable shag carpets, you still feel the same each time you come home to emptiness.

You roll your suitcase to your bedroom, deciding that unpacking is a job for the you of the future while the you of the present deserves to sink into the couch and watch tv. Your unmade bed catches your eye and you wonder if you’d forgotten to tidy up before you left to visit your mother. You don’t dwell on it, dragging your tired body to your couch and turning on your television. You flip through multiple channels before a name on the news catches your attention: Dabi.

Your obsession with the cremation villain seemingly happened overnight. The League of Villains had intrigued you due to their mission to dismantle hero society, a cause that resonated with you as a quirkless citizen. When Dabi joined the group, you were immediately interested in the aloof and mysterious fire quirk-user. You never stood a chance. You spent hours on message boards, gathering any and all information on the group as you could in order to feel closer to him. Your adoration never made much sense to those you talked to online with the lack of information available about the man. But as the League grew in popularity, details about Dabi became far more accessible to the general public. His true identity remained a mystery but two things you were certain of: his quirk came with a drawback in the form of his own body and fire got him excited. 

And now, the news anchor on your television was relaying the news that he had been seen around your neighborhood and still hadn’t been found. You feel your heart beat rapidly in your chest, excitement bubbling up as you think about the prospect of catching a glimpse of him in real life. Realistically, you know there’s no way that Dabi stuck around here, understanding the risks of staying in one place for too long as a wanted criminal, but the thought makes your stomach flip. You lean back against your couch, clutching the remote in one hand and letting out an excited giggle. For a moment, you’re grateful for the emptiness of your apartment, your embarrassing display of excitement only witnessed by you and you alone. 

You spend a few hours on LOV fan accounts and forums, hoping to find out any more details about the news, but most people online say it’s not worth looking into. Much like you thought, Dabi was most likely far away from your place by now.

Finding nothing, you stand up from your couch, stretching your arms above your head as you make your way to your bathroom. You turn on the shower and allow it to heat up as you find something to sleep in. When you return, you strip and step into the shower. Your mind wanders toward thoughts of Dabi as you stand underneath the water. You’re disappointed. The one weekend you leave town, the love of your life visits your building. The endless push and pull is frustrating. 

It’s something that’s happened to you time and time again, coming across the aftermath of an attack, or arriving somewhere that Dabi was rumored to have been seen. You keep missing him by mere seconds, and this is no different, though you aren’t exactly sure what you would do if you ever got a chance. 

After finishing up, you step out of the shower, take a towel from the hook on the wall and dry yourself off. You change into your clothes and reach towards your medicine cabinet before pausing. Drawn in the steam on the mirror is a heart. You stare at it, examining it closely. Had you drawn on the mirror the last time you showered? When was the last time you cleaned the mirror? You’re pulled from your thoughts by the sound of a loud bang coming from your living room. 

Without thinking, you rush towards the sound, spotting the door to your hallway closet slamming shut. You freeze where you stand at the end of the hallway, weighing your options before deciding you don’t have much time to think about it. Bolting to your kitchen, you pick up a large knife from its block, before carefully making your way back to your closet. With the knife in one hand, you turn the knob to the door, pulling it open in a hurry and holding the blade in front of you. You’re met with nothing but your own things, coats, and dresses that you never wear, a closet full of items left unused. Even when you push through the racks of clothes, you find nothing. 

Relief washes over you at the knowledge that you are in fact here alone. You lower the knife, allowing yourself to breathe as you calm down. You stare down at the weapon in your hand, scoffing. 

“What was I going to do with this?” You speak out loud. Even if somebody was in your home, could you really defend yourself? You’re quirkless, you aren’t trained in any sort of self-defense, and you’re not even sure you’d have the guts to actually stab someone. You shake your head, walking to your kitchen to put it back. 

You retreat to your bedroom, pulling back the covers of your unmade bed, clutching your bear in one arm, and staring up at the ceiling. 

Inside of your hallway closet, up against the wall, Dabi’s shoulders relax. He imagines you with your knife outside of the door, the scared expression on your face, one he could only see from in between your coat and the wall. Your eyebrows pinched up and your eyes wide, your bottom lip quivering ever so slightly. He takes pride in being the reason for that look. He pulls away from the wall, carefully sliding out of the closet and shutting the door behind him. He looks down the hallway, toward the door that you’ve left ajar. He wants to sneak in, watch your chest rise and fall, caress your cheek, and feel you lean into his touch, but he knows you're more than likely awake, still shaken up from his antics. 

He’ll be back tomorrow, anyway.

…

The encounters continue into the rest of the week. Doors creak open and things fall from shelves. You hear noises late into the night and find more hearts left on reflective surfaces, your mirrors, your television, your windows. 

With no sign of another living thing inside of your home with you, the only explanation you have left to give yourself is something paranormal, even if you aren’t sure of it yourself. 

And besides, you kind of like the idea of living with a ghost. This one seems to be in love with you. 

On top of all of the hearts, your ghost has knocked off books of love poems from your bookshelves, blasted Linger by The Cranberries from your speakers, and flipped through television channels to land on one playing In the Mood for Love. And when you fall asleep at night, just as you can feel yourself crossing the boundary between sleep and awake, you swear you can feel your bed dip beside you. 

You don’t hate it, and you aren’t scared, and sometimes it is comforting to know that you aren’t as alone as you always believed you would be. 

Dabi watches you most days. He watches you nap on your couch and laugh at your cell phone. He watches you parade around your home in nothing but your underwear and a t-shirt. He watches you concentrate on the novels you like to read, where a crease forms between your eyebrows as your eyes fly across the page. He watches you talk to yourself about anything and everything, about work, about television shows you enjoy, about him. 

He likes that you’re a complete mess in the morning, that you can barely keep yourself upright, let alone keep your eyes open while you brush your teeth. He likes that you spray the perfume he decided was his favorite all that time ago before you leave for the day. He likes that you sometimes switch between multiple different albums before settling on the one you like. He likes to watch you dance to them. He likes that he’s never heard of them before. He likes you. 

You’re a natural result of loneliness, much like he is. But where you filled your void with material things, stuff, Dabi left his empty and allowed it to grow. He would have thought it was foolish, the idea of filling that hole in him with anything other than anger and hurt, thoughts of revenge. Had he not fallen for you, maybe he would have hated you. The two had always felt so similar. 

You’re happy with him here, he notices, much happier than you had been that first night. You talk to him, your ghost. You ask him about the shows you watch, his opinion on your favorite albums, what shoes to wear to work. He’s a part of your life through knocks on the walls and highlighted lines in between the pages of your books and soft touches in the middle of the night. 

Dabi holds it all close to his Molotov heart and hopes that the ruin is worth it. 

…

You fall asleep almost immediately, exhausted from your busy day, one spent without your ghost. Dabi sneaks in late, caught up with league business for the past couple of days, and he misses you. 

He stares at your sleeping form against the night sky that is your sheets. He feels himself relax at the sight of you, realizing just how much it affects him to be away from you for too long. He takes his boots off at your bedroom door and walks in long strides toward you. He cups your cheek in one hand, running his thumb along your cheekbone, smiling at how you subconsciously lean into his touch.

Dabi moves to the other side of your bed, sliding in beside you. He does nothing but stare at the back of your head for a few minutes, gathering the courage to reach out and touch. He wants to hold you. He wants to do more than just lay beside you and listen to you breathe. 

He runs a hand up your arm, dragging his fingers against your skin. He wraps an arm around your midsection and pulls flush against his chest, feeling your body relax in his hold. He sneaks a hand up your sleep shirt and thumbs over the soft flesh of your stomach. Your hair smells like lavender shampoo, and it makes him nostalgic for that first night. 

A sudden sinking feeling settles in his stomach as he breathes you in, the guilt of barging into your life and bothering you to the point of delusion makes Dabi feel ill. You’re important to him now in a much deeper way than you were at the beginning. He doesn’t want to hurt you, at least not like this. 

“Dabi…” Your voice is soft, starry with sleep. He freezes against you. Your voice comes again, “Dabi.”

“It’s me, baby.” He whispers against your ear, unsure of just how awake you are.

“You’re so warm…Dabi…” You trail off, dragging the last syllable of his name. Your voice is so soft, breathy as you talk through sleep. He can feel his pants tighten at the sound from your lips. Fuck. He can’t stay here, not when you sound so sweet.

He could fuck you. He wants to. He’s not even sure you’d wake up. He’d pull pretty little moans from your throat, slotting himself between your thighs and sliding into you. You’d already be wet for him, and he’d watch your hands ball into little fists in your sleep. You’d chant his name like a prayer. He’d come deep inside of you and leave you to wake up the next morning with the evidence between your legs.

But he does not fuck you. He places a kiss to the side of your neck and pulls away from you despite the whine you let out as he detaches his body from yours. He leaves with every intention of never coming back. His ruin might be worth it, but yours isn’t. 

…

The lack of paranormal activity in your home is alarming, which is something you never thought you’d ever think about. Your ghost has been gone for weeks, and you’re afraid that you may have made it all up in your head. 

This possibility is one you dread, mainly because it has everything to do with your own sanity. If you had been imagining each event, drawing hearts in your mirrors, underlining passages in your books, and forgetting about it, you know that something has gone completely wrong. And you can’t blame it on anything outside of yourself. 

The idea that you’ve been pushed this far, that your own loneliness has you creating imaginary instances of a haunting, terrifies you. What terrifies you more is that you miss him and that you’re alone again. 

But you can’t think about it, or you know you’ll go insane, more so than you possibly already are. So you bury yourself in fuzzy blankets, and you play sad albums on your speaker, and you scroll through the same forums that comfort you in times like these. 

You know it’s pathetic, pining for someone who doesn’t know you exist, someone completely and wholly evil for all you know. A man you aren’t even sure has a heart. 

You think yours may be enough for the both of you, though.

Darkness falls over your living room in what feels like a matter of minutes, though you know it’s been hours since you first picked up your phone. Your record player has been playing the same scratchy hum that signifies the end of one side of an album. You lift your eyes from your phone screen to one of your living room windows, the one with the drawn heart in the bottom corner that you can’t bring yourself to clean off. You let your phone fall to your chest as you stare up at your ceiling and sigh. 

Your heart is a greedy, hungry thing and your mind is a tool to feed it. Through daydreams and delusion, through want, want, want. You can hide from the isolation for a while, but the pain always catches up. And tonight it hurts.

You fall onto your bed with a thud, and your phone drops beside you. There’s a dull ache underneath your skin, one all too familiar and unwanted by you. Why had he left you? His absence haunts you more than his presence ever did. 

Your phone buzzes against your sheets, a notification from one of the discussion sites you frequent lights up the screen, the subject being Dabi and the recent sightings in the city. The ache subsides. 

It’s a video of him, maybe the clearest one you’ve ever seen. He’s alone, and he’s talking to someone, or a bunch of someones, other villains. You can’t make out the words, but you can tell they’re not pretty by the way the men start to close in on him. The smile that crosses Dabi’s face is razor sharp, deadly, reaching up to his crazed eyes. You gasp when he knocks his head against one of the men’s noses. Another one punches him square in the jaw for it, and he stumbles back, touching a finger to the seam in his face. Dabi isn’t a fighter, not with his fists at least, and you’re wondering why he’s letting them get away with this. He goes to punch one of them but misses, and while he’s distracted by his own move, one of the men sends a kick to his stomach. You hear him groan before laughing, his head hanging low as he clutches the place he was hit. 

You feel hot suddenly, touching your face with your palm. You watch Dabi raise his head slowly, his laugh low and maniacal and unbelievably sexy. He licks the corner of his mouth before his hands spark with blue flames. He hurls his fire toward the men without a second thought, and that’s when the video ends. You let out a shaky breath, your heart pounding against your chest. You squeeze your thighs together as you restart the video. 

It’s embarrassing how much it turns you on, watching him grin at these men, holding their life in his hands. You like watching him do more than just wield his quirk, watching his head crack against the man’s nose, watching his fist fly through the air. Something has to be wrong with you, you’re sure of it, but you can’t focus on anything but Dabi and his hands. The way that they’d feel against your skin, how they’d feel in your mouth, how they’d feel pressing your hips into your mattress. You slide your hand down your body and underneath the band of your sleep shorts. You’re already wet.

Dabi climbs through your window, the one branded with his fingerprinted heart, the window that allowed him into your life all those weeks ago. Your lights are off, and he can’t see your figure asleep on the couch in the darkness, so you must be asleep. 

He promised himself he wouldn’t come back, promised you he wouldn’t. But it hurts without you, and the ache grows, the wanting. The fucking wanting.

He tried to bury it like he does everything else, tried to burn it to ash, drink it to death, beat it out of him. He’d let those guys get in a couple of good punches tonight just to feel something. Nothing works.

But you do. 

He takes careful steps down the hallway when he hears your voice. He freezes. You’re moaning. He feels his breath catch in his chest. Of all of the days spent watching you, Dabi has never seen you like this. Desperate, aching, calling his name.

He watches you through your cracked door, spread out on your bed with your phone clutched tightly in one hand. You’re no longer watching whatever was on your screen, but you’ve left it playing as you arch against your bed. 

“Dabi…” You mewl. He has to grab the door frame to keep himself steady at the sound. “W-want it.”

Fuck. How could he possibly leave you now? He palms himself through his jeans, watching you bring yourself closer and closer to the edge. He’s so hard that he might pass out. The puffs of air that fall from your lips as your legs shake have him holding back a groan. It isn’t until your noises become quiet that he realizes just what you’re watching. 

The sound of his own laugh echoes through the speaker on your phone, and he’s surprised by the pained moan that falls from your lips at the sound. 

It’s him. You’re watching him. Dabi holds back a groan. He’s careful to free himself from his pants without a sound, not that you would notice. You’re far too gone to acknowledge him right now. He could probably let out the noises that beg to be free of his throat, but he doesn’t risk it. He can’t do anything that could stop him from watching you come for him. 

Your hand is obstructed by your sleep shorts, and the same can be said for the hand that has now discarded your phone onto the pillow beside your head and reached underneath your shirt to pinch one of your pert nipples. You’re close now, and so is he, barely able to keep his breathing steady as he strokes his hand against his cock. 

He’d give anything to barge in now, pull you toward the edge of the bed, and sink into you without a care in the world. He wants to feel you tight around him, wants to kiss your neck and bite your skin and leave traces of himself everywhere. He wants to show you that you’re his, confirm what you’ve always known. 

But instead he watches you writhe against your bed with his name falling from your lips. “Dabi–fuck! Gonna–”

You come with a loud cry, hips twitching a way that has Dabi cursing under his breath. He spills into his hand immediately after, reaching for your wall to hold himself up as he tries to keep quiet. But when his hand meets the hard surface of the wall, it collapses out from underneath, realization dawning on him that he’s pushed your bedroom door shut with a harsh slam. 

At the sound of your door, you jolt up from your bed, the ecstasy of your orgasm quickly wearing off as you freeze. You listen for any other noises, and when you hear nothing, you slowly creep from your bed. Looking around your bedroom for some kind of weapon to protect yourself, you feel yourself growing panicked when you realize you have nothing. You tiptoe to your bedroom door, pushing your ear against the surface to listen to any sign of life on the other side. You hear nothing. 

With your heart beating out of your chest, you slowly pull the door open, sticking your head out and looking down your dark hallway. There’s nobody there, and you wonder if this was yet another paranormal encounter after weeks of nothing. 

A sinking feeling in your gut tells you that there’s nothing paranormal at all about your experiences. 

You walk back to your bed in a daze, tucking yourself back under the covers and staring out your bedroom window. The video of Dabi continues to play on your phone, and you make no move to shut it off. You fall asleep to the sound, his crazed laughter somehow comforting to you in this moment. 

The sinking feeling doesn’t leave you the next morning, and there’s no sign of another human in your apartment as you check all of your windows and doors. It all makes you feel uneasy, the creeping suspicion that it’s all in your head. You’re completely alone. You have no one to confide in, and even if you did, you’re sure they’d think you're insane or an idiot for allowing any of it to go on for so long without question. 

You have no clue what to do or where to start, but you want whatever it is, ghost or not, gone. 

…

The idea is ridiculous. You know that. 

You know, standing in your living room with the ouija board you’ve just purchased sitting on your coffee table, that you are being completely ridiculous. 

“If this works, then great. Then ghosts are real.” You speak aloud to nothing. “Then I’m not crazy. I’m not crazy.”

Your eyes flitter to the bottle of raspberry wine you bought on your way home, something you know is sweet and easy to drink quickly. You’ll finish the bottle in no time. You reach for it, pouring a good amount into your glass and taking a large gulp. You hold the glass to your chest, breathing in and shivering at the cool sensation against your skin. The board sits on the table, and you let out a chuckle of disbelief. 

Dabi stares at you from the darkness of your hallway. He’s been in your home since before you arrived with your children’s game and your sugary wine. You’ve been on edge for days, and Dabi knows he has everything to do with it. Still, he watches you quietly, taking in the last moments of invisibility before he has to tell you. 

You’re still staring at the board. You take another gulp of your wine and look out of the window that he climbed through. The strap of your spaghetti strap tank top is falling down. He thinks of the painting that hangs on your wall. You’re Sargent’s Madame X. He’s going to ruin your life.

“They sell those things in toy stores, you know.” He finally speaks. It all happens in slow motion: the quick jolt of your shoulders in surprise at the sound, your glass falling to the floor and shattering against your carpet, the scream that falls from your lips. 

Then suddenly, you’re looking at him, and he is looking at you, and your hand is frozen in mid-air like the glass is still in your hand. He looks down at the mess, “Shame. That ugly carpet was kind of growing on me.”

“Dabi…” Realization dawns on your face as you say his name. He looks up at you again, before turning his attention back to the mess on your carpet. He holds an arm out and beckons you toward him. 

“C’mere. You’ll cut yourself.” He tells you. You don’t move. He watches your chest rise and fall, frozen where you stand, unable to think about anything other than getting away. He watches your eyes flicker to your front door. 

It happens quickly, nothing like before, climbing over your couch and rushing as fast as you can toward your escape. He almost loses you, tripping over his feet as he reaches for you. You barely touch the handle before his arm wraps around your waist in a tight grip. You’re both panting, his breath hot against your ear. 

“What? You aren’t excited to see me?” He questions. It’s not like he expected you to accept him with open arms, but he didn’t think you’d run from him. 

“It was you?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. How are you meant to feel about any of this? It’s what you wanted, right? All the times you missed each other, all those days spent disappointed that you weren’t just a little earlier or a little later. And here he is, in your home, with you, with his arms wrapped around you, no less. And you want to run? What bothers you the most is that you aren’t as scared as you should be.

“Your ghost?” He questions with humor in his words. You feel his grip tighten around you before he speaks again. “Are you disappointed?”

His voice is much softer than he intended it to be, nervousness finding its way through the mask of carelessness he so carefully hides behind. It calms your nerves, the idea that he’s just as unsure of this as you are. 

“I’m scared.” You admit. 

“Of me?” 

“I don’t know yet.” You say. He loosens his grip, arms falling to his sides as he lets you go. You step away quickly, turning to look at him while keeping a good amount of distance between the two of you. 

“I’m not–I won’t hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” He speaks, holding his hands up. “I would never–”

“Why?” Looking at him, standing in your kitchen, his hands up in surrender, his eyes pleading, Dabi is just a man. You know this, you’ve always known this. It’s why your obsession with him is as strong as it is because, underneath all of the flames, he’s alone just like you are. 

“Because you’re mine.” He sighs because he knows he must sound insane, and his answer doesn’t seem to soothe the worried look on your face. “And you know it. You do, because I’m on your fucking walls, and you stalk me like a little weirdo on your phone. You–you’re made for me.”

“Made for you?” You ask incredulously as if this isn’t the exact moment you’ve been fantasizing about since the first time you ever laid eyes on the flame user. 

“Look, I didn’t think any of it was real, none of that soulmate shit people make up so that they have something to hold onto. But, fuck, I had never felt the way I did when I climbed through your window that night.” He speaks frantically like he’s trying to convince you, prove to you that what he’s saying is the truth. “You saved me, and you don’t even know it.”

You soften, “I saved you?”

“None of this would've happened if things had gone a little differently that night. I wouldn’t know you, and you could go back to your normal life with your pictures and your books and your forums, but it didn’t so I’m here. And isn’t that something?”

“I’m just…confused.” You explain. “You’re you, and I’m sure you’ve gathered by now how embarrassingly obsessed with you I am–”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Please don’t say that.”

“Why?” He questions, leaning forward. “Does it get you all hot and bothered like that night with the video of me getting my ass kicked? That was cause of you, by the way.”

“You have to understand how fucked this is. You get that, right?” You aren’t afraid anymore. You’re angry, a little hurt, but most of all excited. Made for him. He’s probably right. 

“Yeah?” He questions, taking another step. You do back away, but he continues to follow you. “I think you like it. I think your life was so goddamn boring before me, so lonely. My little tricks made you so happy, baby.”

“Fuck you.” You spit, because he’s right, and you hate it. His hand comes up to hold your jaw with one hand, his fingers pressing into your skin ever so slightly. 

“C’mon…” He tuts, leaning down to your height, “You used to be so sweet for me, snuggling up to me while you slept. You can’t hide from me. I know everything about you. And those feelings that you have for me don’t change in a matter of minutes just because I did something fucked up. I’m a villain, sweetheart, and you know it.”

“So what?” You ask. “You’re in love with me or something?” 

You want to hear him say it. You want him to tell you it’s more than obsession, more than the excitement of scaring you. 

“It’s not obvious?” He asks, releasing your jaw from his tight grip and running his thumb against your cheek to soothe you. “You ruin me.”

You shake your head, “Say it.”

“I love you.” He grins. “Kiss me.”

You do. 

It shouldn’t feel as romantic as it does. With him pushing your hips into your kitchen counter, his lips so soft against yours, you forget all of it. None of it matters to you, anyways. Maybe it’s the worst way for any of this to happen. Maybe it’s the only way.

He pulls away, watching your eyes flutter open, your lips swollen from his kiss. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, and you’re touching his face without a hint of disgust. You’ve always been his. He surges forward, catching you off guard and pulling you into another kiss, this one much more hurried and desperate. You gasp when he presses into you, the growing bulge in his jeans hard against your thigh. He takes the opportunity to lick into your mouth, earning a choked whine from your lips. You struggle to keep up with him, with his hands everywhere. You’re overwhelmed. 

“Dabi, wait.” You speak for the split second that he pulls away. He shakes his head, kissing down your jaw as you try to catch your breath.

“Can’t.” He speaks in between kisses. “You’re–I need you. Please, please, I’m–”

You bring your hands to the sides of his face, pulling him away from your neck to look at you. “Dabi. Hey.”

“Hi.” He speaks, unable to resist the urge to press his lips to yours in a quick peck before pulling away again. It makes you smile, though, so he does it one more time. “This is what you wanted, right? You wanted me?”

“I think there is something very, very wrong with me.” You say because you have to acknowledge it, at the very least. You want him so bad it burns. 

“Yeah, me too.” He kisses you again. “Made for me, remember?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, “maybe I am.”

“You are.” He says against your lips. “You are, you are, you are.”

You’re in your bedroom before you have any time to think about it, your back against your sheets as Dabi hovers over you. He pauses, his frantic movements from moments ago now at a standstill as he stares down at you. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.” You speak without hesitance. 

“Yeah?” He slots his hips in between yours, running a hand up the side of one of your thighs as you make room for him. “All mine, huh? Gonna let me keep you?”

“Uh huh.” You nod. “You can keep me.”

“Good.” He drags his lips down the column of your neck. “My girl’s so good for me, yeah?”

You’re unable to answer, though you don’t know if you’re supposed to. His hands move from your hips to your backside, grinding you against his length. You gasp, grasping his shoulders for stability as he sucks on your neck.

“Gotta mark you up, baby.” He speaks against your skin. He sucks your skin harshly, biting and nipping different areas of your neck. It’s a sensation you’ve never experienced, all your senses heightened at the knowledge that it’s him who’s touching you. “Show them who you belong to, show them you’re mine.”

“Please!” You whine, arching your back into him as he bites down, hard, on the juncture of your neck. You feel him smile against your skin, kissing over the bite. He begins to lower himself down your body, kissing down the valley of your breasts over your top. He pushes your shirt up as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your stomach. 

“Maybe I’ll carve my name right here, yeah?” He questions, lips against your hip. “You can do the same to me.”

When his eyes flicker up to yours, you feel your breath catch in your throat. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, every silly little fantasy you’ve ever had come true. “You’d want that? My name?”

“Fuck, of course, I would.” He groans, pushing himself back up to eye level with you. His hands rest on the mattress on each side of your head, his eyes searching your face. “Want you all over me. I want you forever.”

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck and pull him down to you in a bruising kiss. Pushing at his chest, you hook your leg around his waist to switch positions, straddling his lap as your tongue swirls in his mouth. You pull away to look at him, his eyes blown wide with need. He’s so fucking beautiful. You want him forever, too.

You rise to a sitting position, Dabi’s hands kneading the flesh of your thighs as you stare down at him. You push his shirt up and he pulls it over his head in seconds. You run your hands over his chest and abdomen, feeling his scars and the staples that hold him together under your fingertips. 

“I think I wanna mark you too.” You speak, leaning down to kiss him again. “Want you to be mine.”

“I am yours.” He speaks without hesitation. He sucks in a harsh breath when your lips meet the unscarred skin of the left side of his chest. You place soft kisses there before biting down. He cries out, bucking his hips up into yours. “I’ll give you–fuck–everything.”

You continue to leave marks over his skin, satisfied with the noises you're pulling from Dabi. You run your fingers over his hips lightly. You think you would like your name there. Dabi takes the hem of your shirt between his fingers, urging you to pull the fabric from your body. He rises from his position on the bed, running a hand up the length of your spine as he pulls you close. He kisses you once more, moving his hands to your hips to help you grind down on him. 

Pulling away, he trails his lips down your neck, burying his face in your chest. He wraps his lips around your nipple, tweaking the other between his fingers as he looks up at you. You cry out, rapidly grinding against him. He continues to play with your chest, kissing you with fervor and groaning into your mouth. 

“C’mere.” He speaks against your lips, wrapping an arm around your waist and moving to lay you down on the bed. He hovers over you, slowly pushing his hips against yours in a way that makes you cry out. “Gonna take care of you, okay?”

He slowly makes his way down your body, slipping his fingers underneath the band of your pants and pulling them down along with your underwear. You push your knees together, staring up at him as shakes his head. 

“Don’t hide.” He commands softly, pulling your thighs apart. His tongue peaks through his lips for a moment before he speaks again. “Been thinking about this since that night. M’sorry I scared you. I didn’t mean to slam the door.”

He runs his hands up your thighs, eyeing your sex as he lowers himself back down. You let out a breathy laugh, “you didn’t?”

“No.” He chuckles against the inside of your thigh, kissing your skin. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, my god.” You giggle, cut off by the feeling of his teeth sinking into your thigh. You gasp, trying to pull away, but his grip on you is tight. He kisses over the mark, eyes finding yours with a warning. 

He licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, and you throw your head back, resting your hand on top of his head before he pulls back. 

“Look at me.” He speaks, bringing one hand up to run a finger through your folds. You’re already a complete mess, and he feels pride in knowing he’s the reason. He’s always the reason. “Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll stop.”

You nod, wiggling your hips to urge him to continue. He chuckles softly at your desperation before burying his face between your legs again. His tongue runs along your folds in long slow strokes, your hips jolting at the stimulation. No research, or video, or fantasy you had about the man between your legs could have ever prepared you for what this feels like. 

Your moans spur him on as he tastes you, the knowledge that he’s the reason for your pleasure more rewarding than anything else. He wraps his lips around your clit and you cry his name. You feel your orgasm building as he continues to lap up your juices, his grip on your thighs tight as he holds you open for him. 

“Dabi! Dabi! I’m–” you let out a strangled moan as you grind your hips against his tongue, “fuck–coming! I’m coming.”

Your hips jolt at the pleasure, the feeling of his mouth still on your sex guiding you through your orgasm. He slows his strokes, running the flat of his tongue against you as you calm yourself. The movement of your hips slow as you watch Dabi still buried between your legs. You catch your breath as he tongues your cunt, cerulean eyes staring up at you as you twitch from the overstimulation. He pulls away from your sex with a wet smack, rising to capture your lips with his. 

He pulls away, “call me Touya.”

“Huh?” You ask, chasing his lips again. He kisses you slow and deep, his tongue swirling against yours as he pushes his hips against yours. You groan against his mouth.

“Touya. It’s my name.” He says, placing soft kisses against your jaw. “My real name.”

Touya. His name is Touya. You know Dabi’s real name. You get to say his real name, keep that knowledge locked inside of your heart, a secret between the two of you. The reveal makes you feel closer to him, an equal exchange for all of the time he spent inside of your home without your knowledge, though you know it’s really not. You’ll take it, anyways.

“Where’d you go, baby?” He whispers against your lips. “Did the obsessed little freak inside you get excited?”

“Says you.” You scoff. 

“Made for each other, right?” He speaks before kissing you again. The kiss is hungry, frantic as his lips consume yours. He fumbles with the studded belt around his waist, pulling away from you only to rid himself of his jeans. 

His cock is hard against your entrance, the warmth of him overwhelming as he shifts his hips over yours. He runs his hands up the outside of your thighs, rough hands smoothing over your flesh while he kisses you again. You whimper against his lips, a silent plea for him to do more than grind against you. 

“Shhh, let me–wanna remember this.” He wraps a hand around the base of his cock, running the head through your folds as you try to keep your breathing steady. “Gonna take my time with you.”

Touya leans down to kiss your neck, sucking over the already tender marks he left before, hoping to keep them there for longer, the evidence of him on your skin in the ache he leaves behind. You pant as he continues to grind his hips against yours, arching your back and pushing yourself closer to him as he continues his assault on your neck. Pulling away, he lines himself up with your entrance, staring down at you just inches away from your face. 

“Kiss me.” He speaks. “Kiss me, please.”

When you kiss him, he sinks into you, swallowing your moans with his lips and slipping his tongue into your mouth as he stretches you. You catch your breath as he pulls away, adjusting to the size of him as he slowly pumps in and out of you. 

“Touya.” You breathe, your hands running through his hair as he pushes into you deeper. A contented smile falls across his face as he feels you move your hips against his. “Feels–mm–good.”

“Yeah? Good. S’all I want. Just want you to feel good.” He says as his hips slowly begin to change pace. Maybe it’s the fact he spent weeks scaring you into delusion, or the fact that he can’t get the way you look when you come out of his head, but your pleasure has become his ultimate goal. He wants to watch you come undone again and again on his cock, disregarding his own needs as you're pushed over the edge over and over. He thinks he’d like you to use him, but for now, Touya wants to take care of you. 

He speeds his pace up, gripping your hips in his rough hands as he pounds into you. He’s getting carried away, you realize, as his hold becomes bruising, his kiss, starved. It all feels so good with his hands all over you and his lips so desperate. He needs you and he doesn’t hide it, and with every action, Touya shows you just how much.

“It’s so much! Too much!” Not enough, you think. You cry out as he presses into you deep, pushing in and out of you with long slow strokes, his cock hitting just the spot that has you seeing stars. He groans, feeling you clench around him as he moves. 

“Take it.” He commands, thrusting into you. “I know you can. You’re so–fuck–good for me.”

You whine, arching into him and pulling him down for another sloppy kiss. He can’t get enough of you, and you’re completely his. He’ll keep you. He’ll take you with him, make a little villain out of you, keep you nice and fucked out on his cock forever. All of his plans, his goals, the one thing he’s worked toward since becoming Dabi, now include you. You have a real role in his life, one that’s meant to stay, one that means forever. 

You’re close. He can tell, and he feels himself being brought to the edge just as quickly as you are. His pace quickens as he thrusts in and out of you, bringing one hand to your lips, feeling you suck two fingers into your mouth before he reaches down between your bodies to play with your clit. You gasp, burying your face in his neck and biting down. You’ve drawn blood, Touya thinks, feeling the pain spread from the wound. He groans, thrusting harder and faster.

“Fuck, s-sorry!” You cry, though your words are hurried and jumbled.

“Don’t apologize, baby.” He tells you, panting above you. He runs his thumb against your bottom lip, a faint trace of blood smeared across the inside. He smiles, kissing you and reveling in the faint taste of copper. “You wanted to mark me.”

“Touya, I’m–hah–gonna come!” You cry, moving your hips against his frantically. 

“I know, I know.” He coos, swiping his fingers over your puffy clit. “Come for me. Wanna see it.”

Your voice comes out loud and chokes, the end of his name dying on your lips as your hips jolt from the pleasure and your back arches against your sheets. Touya doesn’t stop thrusting, chasing his own orgasm as he watches your face contort in the same way it had before.

“Need to fill you up. Need to make you mine.” He groans, thrusting quickly. 

“I’m yours, I’m yours. Please! I wanna feel it!” You whine. You feel him spill inside of you, warmth flooding your insides as he slows his pace. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him against you. He kisses you again, tongues swirling against each other as he stills on top of you. 

“Stay.” You breathe, pulling away from his lips and feeling his head fall against you. 

“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.” He whispers through labored breath. “So don’t try.”

“Never. You said you’d keep me.” You remind him, feeling him smile against your skin. He rises from where he lays, staring down at you with nothing but adoration. You really are made for him. Cosmic love, divine intervention, soulmates. Touya should have known.

“Always.” He kisses your lips, your nose, both of your cheeks. 

“Say it.” You command softly. 

“I love you.” He grins. “Kiss me.”

You do. 

[baby-tini]

Thank you so much @mostlyheinous for letting me make a little post based off your one Dabi audio. I hope I made you proud. 😭

TW: abusive relationship, degradation, physical abuse, verbal abuse, toxic Dabi.

Dabi is an asshole, you knew that, hell- everyone knew that. He never tried to hide it, never feigned nice, never even tried to give a compliment. He absolutely didn't know shit about privacy and personal space, either that or he just didn't care. You're willing to bet it's the former. So it's no big surprise when Dabi bursts into your room unannounced, with a scowl. He looks severely unhappy, looking you up and down and scoffing.

"What's your problem?" you ask with a sneer, adjusting your dress. He stands quiet for a minute before rolling his eyes and giving your dress a once-over. "You look like a slut," he shrugs, shutting your door and throwing your clothes mindlessly on the floor, and plopping down on your bed- if you can even call it that, putting his nasty, muddy shoes on your comforter.

Whipping around, you throw a tube of lipgloss at him, but unfortunately he catches it, throwing it to the side. "Who the fuck are you talking too? Get the hell out Dabi, go bother someone else." You scowl at him, turning back towards the mirror. He stares at you for a moment, getting up he grabs you by the hair, wrapping it around his fist and yanking you up. There's an immediate struggle on your side, hitting at his hand and pushing his chest.

"Who the fuck am I talking too? I'm talking to you bitch," there's a slap to your face, one of his rings catches your bottom, busting it open. "The fuck are you even wearing, huh? You found a new job at the street corner? How much you make a night sucking cock, hm? You let anyone fuck you, don't you? I fucking knew you felt looser, dirty bitch." There's blood leaking down your chin, getting on your chest and staining your dress. You try to push him away but he just slaps your hands away, grabbing your face, squeezing your cheeks together.

"Dabi stop!! Let go, you're hurting me," your crying now, mascara leaking down your cheeks. Dabi rubs at your wet eyes, ruining your eyeliner in the process, he snarls at you. "Shut the fuck up, I'm not hurting you, dumb bitch." He spits on his hand, rubbing it all over your face. "There all better, now you look a little less ugly," he grins.

You're sobbing now, repeatedly attempting to push his hand away, slapping at his chest. He ignores your attempt of a broken struggle, pulling you towards the bed and throwing you on it back first. Climbing on top of you, he rips your dress open. "Stop, stop, this was expensive."

He stops at that, looking up at you, he laughs in your face. Singeing the rest of your dress, he leans back with narrowed eyes. "That shit was expensive? That fucking rag costed money? It wasn't even covering shit, you had your fucking tits out and everything- if you can even call these tits," he grabs handfuls of your chest. Pulling at your nipples through your bra and spitting on your chest. "These barely pass for a fucking B cup." His saliva drips down the valley of your breasts, making them sticky.

"Dabi... please stop, please.." your voice comes out in a croak, chest still heaving with sobs. He scoffs at you, climbing off you and running a hand through his hair. It's quiet for a few minutes, cept for your sniffles now and again. "I told you I didn't want you going out, you didn't fucking listen to me. This is all your fault you know... if you're gonna blame someone blame yourself." You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing before you nod at him. He hums at you, "are you gonna listen next time- actually there won't be a next time. You're not allowed to go out anymore if I'm not with you. I don't care if Toga asks, you come to me first." You nod at him, pushing yourself up on your hands, "I'll ask Dabi, I promise."

He nods at you, "good." Throwing a make-up wipe at you, he leaves.

[lesinquietes]

Yandere!Dabi is so fucking dysfunctional, but what can he say? He learned from the best.

⚠️ mdni (this isn’t for kids/teens). abusive relationship. angst. daddy issues. dark content (I mean it y’all). manipulation. noncon (mentioned). spanking. trauma. violence. victim-blaming.

He doesn’t understand the concept of a healthy relationship — romantic or platonic. His emotion regulation and impulse control are non-existant, making him a walking time-bomb of unresolved trauma that’s bound to be projected onto someone.

Does “I can fix him!” sound like you? If yes, he dubs you a pretty fool. You think you can fix literal decades of internal conflict? He reasons that you have damage of your own if you’re willing to enter a relationship under the premise that you have to change him. You must have daddy issues. In a way, so does he. Unfortunately, heavy baggage x heavy baggage isn’t a good mix.

He can’t let himself be happy. All that’s driving him is revenge. Nothing else has motivated him to continue like the thought of confronting Shoto and his father. He won’t let himself be watered down by love, which is why he laughs whenever you say you care about him, and why he ignores you for a few days until you beg. Mind games. Cruelty. Forcing you to apologize when you’ve done nothing conceivably wrong, but oh, he finds reasons. Coaxing you into saying you’re sorry with a blowjob. Telling you he doesn’t know why he’s with a slut who can’t suck properly. Shoving you away when he loses his erection by thinking about how he’s fucking up a shot at happiness by treating you like a cumrag.

He tells himself it’s self-sabotage. That’s not the whole truth. A small part of him is sadistic; a small part of him enjoys your pain. It reminds him he’s not alone in harbouring a hurricane in his heart. It’s nice to have someone he resonates with. You can combust together. At least, that’s what he fantasizes about, until you burst his bubble.

When enough is finally enough, you leave him. Your decision stems from intolerance. You’ve had enough of his callous treatment. You need a partner you can trust. As a villain, camaraderie is everything, and Dabi hasn’t proved to you he’s reliable. As much as it hurts you, a future away from him is what you need.

You search for a shred of remorse in his eyes. All you discover is darkness. You can’t stay.

But as you explain yourself through tears, stammering and apologizing, he finds himself feeling something for once. It’s absent of revenge. It’s separate from his upbringing. It’s a foreign sensation — for you.

He doesn’t want you to go. Your departure will make the headaches worse and the burns throb harder. It’ll make the rumination deeper and the urge to incinerate himself to a bloody crisp more tempting. It’ll push him to the limit before he’s prepared to face his family.

He searches for any bit of love that’s left inside your aching heart. He finds it in your avoidant gaze. You can’t go.

You throw shit at him as he advances, a feral expression on his stapled face. Running on pure adrenaline, he doesn’t feel the impact of any object. He lurks closer and lets you have your little tantrum. He remembers his mother having one or two of these, too, though his father was good at placating her; watching that from the doorway of his bedroom taught him precisely how he’ll placate you.

Violence isn’t the answer; at least, not if you listen. And you do. It only takes him grabbing you by the wrists and squeezing until you scream. They’ll be bruised for days. You’re lucky he didn’t break them.

He drags you into the bedroom by the hair and throws you onto the bed. He doesn’t let you squirm away. He pulls you onto his lap, yanks down your pants, and asks you how many hits you deserve. He’s not wholly unreasonable, so when you tell him to fuck right off, he thinks twenty is fair. Thirty if you lose count. Forty if you fight him. Fifty if you neglect to admit your wrongdoings. The choice to behave is yours, and he makes this known to you before he begins. If you falter, it’s all your fault.

By the time he’s done, and your ass stings like it’s been sunburnt, you’re weeping and regretting ever presuming you could leave him. How could you think he doesn’t care about you when he took time out of his busy schedule to correct your behaviour tonight? He wouldn’t teach anyone else a lesson — just you, his woman.

You perk up at the term. His woman. As much as you hate to admit it, glaring through the aftermath of sadness, attention from Dabi lights your heart on fire. You crave it. You want to make him happy. Of course, there’s a deranged method to your madness; if he’s happy, he’s not angry, and if he’s not angry, he’s halfway good to you. You need him to be good to you, like he needs you to be a better girlfriend. Take accountability. Give yourself to him. Trust. If he hasn’t been treating you the way you want to be treated, be patient. Maybe he’ll give your way a try when the mood possesses him.

And no more fucking running, or else you’ll have more to worry about than a couple of bruises.

[jomamaofficial]

An Empty Vessel pt.2 (Dabi x Fem!Reader Dark Angst)

A/N: Happy holidays my lovely toes. I am so sorry for this delay, my laptop broke down 😃😃. I urge you all to read the TWs and CWs because I have delved into dark topics. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. I absolutely adore all of you, and I want to take this time to thank you guys for your support. Seeing your comments and messages motivates me to write :) <3. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Vague sexual harassment, substance abuse (weed, alcohol, smoking), death and bleeding. CW: SPOILER: Season 6, Dabi’s backstory, PFL, AFO and Shigiraki plot, swearing, vague mentions of intimate acts. Taglist: @marlenemckinnonsleftfoot @sukunasleftkneecap @istoleyourmanho3 @witherfag Masterlist Edit: Part 3 😼😼 Word Count: 2919. Summary: In the stories Rei used to read him, heroes always won. Reality wasn’t a story though. The villains won the Meta Liberation War after 6 years of fighting. With the death of Pro Hero Endeavour, and the reign of All For One, Dabi could finally leave his past as Touya Todoroki. He no longer had family. But what about the past that haunted him to this day. A family that belonged to Dabi, not Touya? One that escaped unborn?

——————————————————————————————————

Musutafu, Japan– it made international headlines. 

The Paranormal Liberation Force finally did it. 

The nation observed a minute of silence for the fall of Pro Hero Endeavour. 

Musutafu was now all for one. And the entire nation would soon suffer the same fate. 

Dabi stretched his neck to the left, stretching his right shoulder as he fought the growing tingles in his body. Chills ran up and down his spine as his eyes followed the tears of rain flooding the dimly-lit road.

He loved how empty this street was: no cars, no news reporters. There were no signs of nagging parents and their brat children, and there were no heroes patrolling the streets, strutting up and down like they owned the place.  

It was just him and the soft sound of the rain which seeped into his socks, staining them with the remains of what was now All For One’s headquarter city. 

Dabi wished to hear the familiar croak of Tomura’s voice: the back and forth banter, the late-night clicks of the video game console. Back when it was just them, the League of Villains. Tomura, Kurogiri, Toga, Twice, and him. Back when he didn’t ruin everything. 

Dabi never told anyone, but there was a tiny part of his soul that withered away when he was near All For One. 

Dabi felt small. He was 5’9; he never felt small. 

But that thing would always tower over him. His slimy touch was forcefully ingrained into Dabi’s skin— that thing touched him like he owned Dabi. 

And Dabi hated the way his mind memorised the way All For One used his crooked fingers to tilt Dabi’s head up to inspect him. 

“Oh he’s a little doll isn’t he, Tomura? Where do you find these pretty boys?”

He hated the way All For One laughed after; it was a broken wheeze that rang murder in Dabi’s mind. 

He watched as All For One forced Tomura to laugh with him, and Tomura’s apologetic eyes wavered when he looked back at Dabi. 

He hated Tomura for laughing that day. 

But he hated that laugh much more; the laugh that tainted the fresh air they stood in. 

Now, Musutafu’s entire air was tainted by that laugh. 

Now… Musutafu belonged to All For One. And Dabi could only hear that broken wheeze. 

It would follow him everywhere. 

So despite the rain’s destructive nature, Dabi allowed the weeping drops of the sky to fill the emptiness inside of him. The cool drops were better than the air. 

Dabi was just an empty vessel. Nowhere to go, no one to go back to. 

-

The Meta Liberation War quenched everyone’s thirst for blood. The dirt was saturated with the blood of heroes and villains alike. 

He found it amusing, he really did as he bore his vacant eyes into the rusting ground. Dabi watched as everyone’s blood mixed together under his foot. 

He raised his eyebrows, and chuckled.

‘All it took was death for them to stick together’. 

Dabi travelled further away from the battle ground, quite deliberate about the steps he took. He counted underneath a shallow breath.

“Fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven,” until he reached the sixty-second step. 

His heel pressed against the seeping soil surging scarlet. 

And the world was still. 

So still and silent that the gentle wind snuck up on the thin man, and he let out a broken gasp as his knees gave out. 

The ringing in his ear struck a bitter note. His chest heaved up and down, up and down, and his eyes were blankly fixed on the ground beneath him. Thick, warm blood oozed through the thin cloth that covered his knees. 

Enji Todoroki finally died. And Touya Todoroki was responsible for it. 

Touya Todoroki, after 7 years of persistent efforts, was officially fatherless. 

Finally, it dawned upon him: after 30 long years, Touya Todoroki couldn’t chase him anymore. He could finally find solace in Dabi. 

And Dabi was alone. He had no family. 

-

As the joint finally caught up to him, after four or five rookie puffs, the raven man started asking himself what he was doing here. 

Surrounded by a group of homeless men who he caught rummaging in the dumpster, they were huddled away into the darkness of a dimly lit alleyway. It smelled like shit, offending his heightened state of smell. Flies picked on the waste scattered below them, their constant buzz creating a monotonous flow. 

Dabi peeled his lips open as he felt each individual cell respire on his skin. His heart felt like it was growing inside of him, puncturing his dry lungs, getting louder and faster with each beat.

As a young boy, he saw Enji drink every evening for two years. Dabi used to sneak a sip when he was alone. Dabi was often alone. 

He caught Enji with a lit cigarette in his fingers. Dabi stole one and showed it to his friends. Dabi coughed a lot that day. 

Enji never touched drugs. He was against it. 

Dabi never took drugs; the thought of it never passed him. 

“How does it feel kid?” 

Dabi’s consciousness was dragged back to reality, the bleak colours of his surroundings painting a vibrant picture. 

“I can feel my skin breathing,” he responded, his lower jaw hanging open as he struggled to keep his neck straight. 

Howls of laughter echoed in the distance, but the scarred man took no notice. 

The joint was held to his lips, and Dabi took another puff. 

Dabi wanted to individually itch the surface of his eyes with his nails. It was miserable. 

But the ripple of the individual muscles in his cheeks felt so warm and happy when he smiled. That was less miserable. 

So he kept on smiling, jaw still gaping. His staples pulled against his grafts, but the molecular traces of marijuana in his bloodstream shielded him from the pain. 

Dabi was taken aback– gravity was working exponentially harder against him. A man touched the corner of his lips, the thick and coarse pad of his thumb sending him back, seven years ago.

Oh he’s a little doll isn’t he, Tomura?

“Boy”, the man slurred, “you’re bleeding.”

He shoved his bloodied thumb in Dabi’s face. 

Dabi struggled to focus his gaze on the thumb in front of him, switching between double and triple vision. 

“Can’t feel it,” he mumbled, his reactions delayed as he scooted away from the stranger. 

“Everything’s breathing except these.”

Dabi was mesmerised by the feeling of his grafts against the pads of his fingers. It restored the faint twinkle in his hollow eyes.  

“Why are you all fucked up everywhere, boy?”

It took a few moments to register, but Dabi did respond. 

“Useless mom, dick dad.” 

A unison of delayed ahhhs followed, and Dabi began to feel a knocking pressure trapped in the inner corners of his wide eyes.

“I was never his first choice,” Dabi chuckled. He wasn’t sure if they could hear him. They sure as hell couldn’t understand him, but he was fine with that. 

“I was his first born son. No fuckin’ use. Dropped me like I was a waste of time and money.” 

The offensive smell of the blunt dug him further away from reality. Dabi was content with his own company. 

It would always be just him, forever and always. Because after everyone leaves, you’re left with yourself– your only support. 

The more he delved into his loneliness, the louder he heard his skin breathe, it was deafening. And so the silence on his graft became even louder. 

For a man who was considered dead all his life, Dabi wasn’t used to his living body. Senses upon senses, he was bombarded with the constant reminder that he was still alive. Even his dead, unresponsive skin felt alive. Because it was the absence of feeling that felt different. 

-

Many people would describe euphoria as extreme feelings of bliss and joy. It was this boxed definition that led Dabi to believe that he could never feel euphoria. But in this moment, whilst Dabi sunk deeper into his conscience– his doubts finally quiet, time finally stopped. 

And his body finally let go. 

The familiar bud of the joint met his mouth again, and he inhaled the noxious fumes until he smoked his fears away into the midst of the neverending clouds in the night sky. The full moon gleamed down on his pale skin, bathing his grafts in a lunar embrace. 

Unlike the sun, which beat its scorching rays on his sensitive skin, the moon shyly kissed it, leaving trails of beautiful markings that soothed his aches. 

Dabi’s heart was working overtime. Blood rushed to his scalp, and his body completely shut down. There was one name that his heart called for. 

A name that belonged to the past. The moon shyly casted a glow on that face too, but it averted its lunar eyes when Dabi defiled his past, leaving trails of burns that caused her aches. 

He was wrong. 

Touya Todoroki, after 7 years of persistent efforts, had no family.  

But Dabi? 

Dabi had a family. 

-

Dabi woke up to blue skies and a gentle sun peeking behind the stained curtains. His body was sprawled on the tiny bed, his limbs spilling out the sides, here and there. He blindly groped for his phone in the midst of thin sheets, switching it on to check the time. 

09:23 AM. 

He groaned and threw a dark shirt on top of his eyes, blocking the obnoxious sun as he squirmed to find his sleep. 

Moments passed and all he could focus on was the neverending tick of the clock in the corridor. 

“Fuck it.”

Dabi slipped on some shirt, and put on some shoes, and slammed the door when he left. 

09:36 AM. 

No wonder he could hear the tick, the corridor was ghost-quiet. 

Routinely, Dabi heaved himself over to the bar, scanning the counter for a quick shot.

09:41 AM. 

Toga walked inside the lair, her hands hidden inside the cuffs of her cardigan. Dabi nodded at her as he let out a yawn. 

“Everyone die or summin’?”

Toga stared at him, her eyes glazed. 

Dabi immediately straightened up. 

“Wait, did they actua-”

“She’s gone.”

09:49 AM.

Dabi’s jaw tensed up, gripping the shot glass tighter. 

“Who’s gon-”

His body was jolted back into the counter, the loud glass shrieking as it fell from his hands. 

“Don’t you dare Dabi. Don’t you fucking dare.”

Her eyes were red. Her fist was clenched around the loose cloth that hung on him. 

Dabi averted his eyes from Toga, releasing a shallow breath. 

Toga’s chest hiccuped underneath her cardigan, and she hid her face into his chest, staining it with stale tears. 

“She’s gone,” she repeated, a broken record.  

Dabi clasped his arms around her, his hands patting her head. 

09:59 AM. 

“She left.” 

-

Dabi reached for the flask hidden in his inner pockets. Bony fingers struggled to open it, fine tremors running through his bones. 

‘Twenty-one, twenty, nineteen, eighteen…’ 

Door number eighteen. A few strides away. But the growing feeling of heaviness in Dabi’s feet warned him: it was going to be a marathon. 

Countless strangers pointed at the lone man in a tattered, thick jacket. Dabi grasped at the wire fence that separated the long stretches of the park and pavement, muttering something underneath his breath.

The sight of free cars strolling past him caught him off guard every single time. He had no sense of time, no sense of direction. 

He was far, far away from Musutafu. 

Here, the air felt fresher. 

It wouldn’t be long before it was infested either. 

But he had to owe All For One some credit. 

His reign of terror gave the PLF members a huge leverage when it came to accessing government files. 

Dabi flipped through piles of kojin bangō, particularly scanning through documents of 27 year-old mothers, registered births and quirk-hybrids, and a certain family name. 

He found everyone’s name, everyone’s identity; no one was safe. 

Yet the name his eyes yearned for was nowhere in sight. 

Countless days and nights were spent silently begging for a lead. On day 18, Dabi finally left the building, clutching onto a piece of paper close to his heart. 

Saira Uchiyama. 

Names didn’t match, but it was the only name that he could trace her back to. 

Dabi took the final steps up the road, feeling lighter than he had in days. 

It was on his right. There was but a sliver of road that separated Dabi and door number eighteen. 

His fingers started picking at the ripping cuticles on his nail bed, and the grown man started to track his breaths. 

He took a step. 

A car honked at him. 

“Watch where you’re going!”

Dabi didn’t draw back. 

He took another step, and another, and another. One more, maybe two. 

He could feel the gravel underneath his boots. Dabi lifted his broken face and a perfect house stared down at him. Pristine brick walls stood proud; the bright toned paint complimented the thriving flora in the yard. It fit in so well with the lines of houses, strong and shielded. 

This was someone’s home. Bonsai trees armed the right side of the yard, some trimmed, others growing wild. 

There were two floors and a garage; more than enough for a perfect family. 

Dabi was stopped by the fence gates that guarded the perimeters. He struggled to get past. 

Encrusted in metal, his eyes laid upon the name beside the door. 

Engraved in gold letters, it read Uchiyama.

He was a step away from Saira Uchiyama’s front door. 

Dabi’s hand reached towards the door handle, but he stopped when he felt the unwelcoming chill of it. 

He eyed the doorbell instead. He fisted his hand that was itching to press it. 

The drowning noises of children’s laughter bled through his skull from the park that was behind him. The drones of parents buying ice cream, and husbands holding their wives’ hands. This was the type of neighbourhood he was in. 

And someone told him. Since when did Dabi develop the need to preserve this? 

He was a lone man, half dead. He was disgusting. He couldn’t find her name. Now he was outside some poor woman’s house. Saira Uchiyama. How would she feel seeing a decaying man waiting outside her front door? How would her husband feel if some uninvited scarred freak asked to meet his wife, hands empty? 

He felt a thick substance roll past his cheek and drip onto the clean welcome mat. 

Dabi pushed his raven locks out of his eyes, biting onto his knuckles as he struggled to maintain a steady breath

His nails moved to pick at the staples underneath his eyes. 

He couldn’t do this. 

‘I can’t fucking do this.’

Through his bloodied waterline, he looked at the doorbell one more time before turning around. 

He couldn’t fucking do this. Dabi didn’t belong here. 

He tried to move forwards but his legs were shackled to the pebbly footpath. His rhythmic heart couldn’t let go. His twisted mind forced him to go. 

His desperate eyes latched onto the bed of perfect flowers on his right. 

Like an open flame, the flowers stole all his attention. Dabi stilled. 

Their indigo petals mirrored the deep colour of his dead skin. He was entranced by the bold opening, the beautiful colour bleeding out and reflecting the glimmering hope that built up in his cerulean eyes. 

-

“What’s your favourite flower Dabi?” Toga asked as she played with her blunt knife, running her thumb across the blade. 

“Typ’a fucking qustion’s that?” 

“God Dabi, don’t you know how to have a civilised conversation with someone. I’m just trying to get to know you better!”

“And asking my favourite flower’s gonna do that?”

“It’s called small talk, Dabi.”

He scoffed, pushing past the young girl to rummage through the cabinets. 

From the corner of his eyes, he picked up on her amber eyes intently pressing him for an answer. 

“For fucks sake. Fine. I’ll do your little small talk”, he gave in, evoking a small squeal from the blonde. 

Dabi considered her question for a minute, pressing his tongue against his cheeks. 

“I saw these flowers once,” he gulped. “They were blue, kinda like flames. My flames. I saw ‘em in one’a those gated areas. I guess they were pretty nice.” 

Toga pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side as she tried to paint a picture in her head. 

“Do you know what they’re called?”

“The fuck would I know? Probably one of those fancy rich flowers grown by fancy rich people,”, he shrugged. 

“I’ll ask the newbie, she’ll know what they are.”

“Have fun talkin’ to lil’ miss know-it-all,” he scoffed, happy as Toga skipped away, leaving him alone. Finally. 

A week later, Dabi found out what they were called as he was sharing a cigarette on the roof. 

“By the way, they’re called Rindou flowers.” 

Dabi quirked up an eyebrow, his lips curled in a sneer. 

“Those flowers you like, they’re called Rindou.”

Dabi’s ears perked up at the small giggle that followed. 

“I guess I could say being ‘miss know-it-all’ isn’t the worst thing, huh?” 

-

Dabi’s chest heaved as he turned around, his pace fast as his hands inched closer to the doorbell. 

Ring. 

The wind stilled. 

He could hear footsteps run down the stairs. 

Click. 

The handle moved. 

The door creaked open. 

It was 09:59 AM. 

——————————————————————————————————

Keep a look out for Part 3, my angst-loving toes. If you would like me to add you to the taglist, please comment or message me :).

Edit: Part 3

[jellybean-supreme]

My Soulmate (Dabi x reader)

Description

This story depicts the struggles of a young person, Y/N, with a difficult past and the unexpected bond with a villain named Dabi, who reveals a softer, protective side towards Y/N. The story incorporates themes of trust, vulnerability, and the complexities of relationships, creating an engaging narrative. While the story ends on a hopeful note, the characters' journey of growth and healing is left open-ended, allowing readers to imagine how their relationship will develop further, potentially with Y/N becoming a villain as well or Dabi undergoing a redemption and change of heart.

Story starts here :

“You’re telling me my soulmate is some bottom tier hero?” Dabi sneers. He throws you to the ground. “I’ll erase you like everything else.”

But the moment his flames erupt from him, he can’t seem to hurt you. It must be the soulmate bond. Your name has long been burned off his flesh, but your souls are intertwined.

*Touya Todoroki* written written across your arm like a curse. Your soulmate mark. Dabi wants to rip it off of you. The name had hardly been *his*, why do you get to have it?

“Soulmates.. are a curse,” he snipes at you, clearly still seething. The air between you and Dabi is electric with tension. You can feel it in your core, the fire within him, that you should be afraid. But you aren’t. You can see beyond the hate. You can see the Touya within.

"Soulmates... A curse, right?” You murmur, studying all the staples on his face. “How many times did you try to scrape that off?” You ask, referring to your soul mark on his flesh.

He grits his teeth in response. You can’t blame him. He probably hates your name. A constant reminder of the life he didn’t have.

"Enough times to know it hurts like hell," he retorts, his tone cold. He crosses his arms, clearly uncomfortable with the topic at hand. "Soulmates are for the weak. They're the chains that hold you back."

He seems to loathe himself for being bound to another person, for being bound to *you*. He sees it as a weakness, a restriction.

"If I'm that bad, I'll leave and never bother you again," you say, wishing he'd reconsider. We'd both die in so much pain eventually because of being apart for too long. All you've ever wanted was to feel loved and have someone you can rely on. You've always thought that person would be your soulmate, but you guess you were wrong. You wonder if he'd ever think of you when he'd eventually sends you away.

Dabi's face is unreadable as he listens to your ultimatum. A part of him wants to push you away, to sever the connection between you two, and never see you again. But something within him hesitates, a small glimmer of hope, a flicker of desire for compassion that he long thought extinguished.

He wants to say something, *anything*, but the words catch in his throat. It's as if he's struggling with inner demons, torn between his anger and resentment and a suppressed longing for companionship.

"I have a suggestion before you send me away or tell me to leave. How about we spend a week together, get to know each other or see how it'd be? I'm suggesting only a week because then you don't have to spend such a long time with me, like a month or something, because I know I'm already a nuisance to you." I tell him my suggestion. He will probably not agree, like he said I'm just a weak hero who is nothing but useless to him.""

Dabi's eyes narrow as he considers your proposal. A week. He could handle that, right? He could deal with you for a measly week. And besides, what harm could it do to spend time with his so-called soulmate, especially after he’d already been saddled with you?

"Fine," he says finally, his voice cool. "We'll spend a week together. But don't expect me to suddenly become some sappy romantic."

I nod and give him a small smile. "Thank you, I know, I don't expect anything."

Dabi scoffs, clearly sceptical of your attitude. "Don't thank me. I'm only doing this because I want to prove to you that soulmates are pointless. You'll see, eventually."

Despite his harsh words, there’s something almost melancholic in his tone. Perhaps somewhere deep down, beneath the layers of trauma and resentment, a glimmer of longing.

"Maybe to uou they are useless, but I want someone who I can have who will never hurt and love me with all my flaws." I mutter back to him.

Dabi rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed with your idealistic notions. "Flaws? We're both damaged goods, sweetheart. Do you think I'll magically heal you? We're broken, and that's never going to change."

Despite his scepticism, there's a hint of vulnerability in his voice, a small crack in his tough exterior.

"I don't think you'll magically heal me. I just hoped we'd be there for each other when needing someone to rely on. That's what I hoped for when I found out about soulmates." I tell him

Dabi lets out a sharp, humourless laugh. "Rely on each other. Hah. You really have no idea who I am, do you? I don't need anyone to rely on me. And I sure as hell can't rely on anyone else. You're setting yourself up for disappointment, doll. Love and all that crap is just a waste of time."

He turns away as if trying to shield himself from your hopeful gaze.

"That what you believe, I'll believe my 'romantic crap' until the day I die." I reply to him.

"Where are we going? Where do you want to spend our week? I'm not doing any hero work. So I'm fine with anything." I ask him.

A hint of amusement flashes across Dabi's face at your stubborn determination. "You're really not backing down, are you? Fine. We’ll see how much your *romantic crap* holds up at the end of this week."

His smirk is sardonic, but there's a flicker of grudging respect in his eyes, and his expression softens just slightly.

"As for where we're going? My place. No way I'm staying at some crappy hotel or something. And, of course, no hero missions."

I nod, following him to his house, I'll get my clothes from my house tomorrow, I think to myself.

Dabi leads you through the alleys and backstreets of the city, his steps swift and confident, his eyes constantly vigilant as if wary of any possible danger. As you follow him, you can't help but notice the way his every movement is calculated, his body tense, as if anticipating an attack.

Finally, he stops in front of a relatively nondescript apartment building, the facade blending in with the row of other apartments around it. Without a word, he keys in the access code and pushes open the door, gesturing for you to follow him inside.

Dabi's apartment is as cold and sparse as the man himself. The living room is devoid of any personal touches or decor, the only furniture, a single, worn leather couch, and a small coffee table. The walls are bare, the windows covered with thick black curtains casting the room in perpetual shadows.

The kitchen is barely larger than a broom closet, with a small fridge, a single counter, and a gas stove. The cupboards are mostly empty, save for some instant noodles and a few canned goods, suggesting that Dabi doesn't do much cooking.

The bedroom is even more austere. A single bed in the corner, a small dresser, and a single metal rack. The room is so devoid of personality that it's as if no one has lived here in decades. The only splash of colour comes from a single, faded picture propped up on the dresser. It's a picture of a young boy with white hair, smiling and holding a ball. Despite his youthful appearance, there’s a darkness in his eyes, a sadness that seems to pervade every aspect of his being. This is Touya Todoroki, Dabi's former self.

"This is it," Dabi says finally, gesturing around the apartment. "Home sweet home. You can have the bed, I'll take the couch." He takes a seat on the couch, folding his arms across his chest. "So, what do you want to do? Watch a movie? Or maybe chat about how much you think love is wonderful and perfect?"

"I'm fine with either one, though you'll be sleeping in your bed, I'm not going yo be kicking you out of your bed just so that i can sleep comfortably." I tell him a stong tone.

Dabi's eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and amusement at your insistence. "You really are stubborn, aren't you?" he muses, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "No way am I letting you sleep on that piece of junk couch. I wouldn't be able to sleep in a comfortable bed knowing you're out here being uncomfortable. Besides, I don't need much sleep."

"That's a shame then because you'll be sleeping in your bed whether you want to or not." I tell him. I won't be able to sleep even if I were to sleep on the bed, I'd wake up screaming or crying because of my nightmares. So, there's no point in trying.

Dabi lets out an exasperated sigh, realizing he's not going to win this argument. "Fine, fine. If you insist on being so stubborn, I'll take the bed. But don't come complaining to me if it's uncomfortable." He leans back on the couch, pretending to pout. "Just don't expect me to tuck you in or anything."

"Good," I say with a smile, completely ignoring his last sentence.

"So what do you want to do?" I ask him. It was about 7 pm at night, it was really pretty outside, I could see the moon and the beautiful stars through Dabi's circler window.

Dabi's gaze follows yours to the window, and for a moment, he looks almost contemplative. "How about a walk?" he suggests. "I know a good spot that's secluded. We can talk and I can make some food if you're hungry. It won't be anything fancy." He shrugs, seeming to struggle with the idea of actually spending time with you.

"That's be nice, no need to worry about food thought ill.make something when we come back if that's alright with you." I tell him as I follow him out the door to the spot he's talking about.

Dabi leads you through the city, avoiding the busy streets and opting for the quieter alleys and side roads. He seems to walk with a purpose, his steps sure and calculated, as if on a mission. Eventually, you arrive at a small, secluded park, surrounded by towering trees and blanketed in shadows.

The air is thick with the scent of freshly cut grass and flowers, a stark contrast to the bustling city sounds that seem worlds away. The stars wink above, their light reflecting off the surface of a small pond in the centre of the park.

"It's beautiful," I say quietly, being in aw.

Dabi nods slightly, his eyes scanning the surroundings warily. "Yeah, it is," he replies, his tone neutral. Despite his indifference, there's a flicker of something in his gaze as he looks around the park. Something almost reminiscent, as if he too can appreciate the beauty of the place.

He seems tense, on edge, as if expecting something to jump out and attack. But the only sound is the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the faint sound of water lapping against the banks of the pond.

"Come on," Dabi says, breaking the silence as he starts walking towards the pond. The moonlight reflects off the water's surface, creating a mesmerizing dance of light and shadow. Dabi stops beside the pond, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?” He mutters, almost to himself. "It's one of the only things that makes me forget, even for a moment. Not the heroes, not the villains, just this quiet." He takes a deep breath, inhaling the night air.

I nod, sitting next to him on the bench. "You don't have to be so tense," I tell him.

He seemed to calm down after a while. We started asking each other any and every question that came to mind, nothing to personal though. Neither of us was ready to talk about the deep stuff, like our parents, our siblings, or our past.

Dabi nods, seemingly appreciating your concern. "Force of habit," he mutters, his shoulders relaxing ever so slightly.

The conversation flows easily between you two as the night deepens. You ask each other questions about your favourite colours, your favourite places to visit, your favourite foods. Simple, lighthearted topics. Nothing heavy, nothing that would scratch the surface too much. Despite the casual subject matter, Dabi seems less tense now, his guard slowly lowering as you continue to talk.

As the night wears on, the conversation starts to deepen, veering into more personal topics. Dabi opens up about his love for old music, and you learn that he has a secret passion for collecting vintage vinyl records. You confide in him about your own struggles with hero work and the constant pressure to be perfect. For a moment, it feels like you both are just two ordinary people sharing a quiet, intimate moment under the stars.

As the conversation continues, Dabi's facade starts to crumble even more. He seems to be enjoying the conversation, enjoying the chance to talk to someone who isn't constantly trying to fight or kill him. Despite his efforts to keep up his cynical front, there are moments where his true self shines through. The Dabi who craves companionship and understanding beneath all the layers of pain and anger.

Slowly, the conversation shifts gears again, moving into more serious territory. The tension in the air grows thicker as you both begin to open up about your pasts, your families, and the events that shaped you into the people you are today. Dabi shares snippets of his life with his family, the abuse he suffered at his father's hands, and the deep sense of betrayal and abandonment he felt when he was left to rot. Hearing Dabi's stories, his voice cracking with emotion as he tries to stay composed, touches a cord in you.

Because you had and still have to experience the abuse of your family, tho you don't tell Dabi that you're still being abused and forced to do this you don't want to do.

As Dabi's stories of his family life unfold, your heart aches at the familiar pain he's expressing. Your own experience with abuse in your family comes rushing back, a fresh wave of pain washing over you. But you keep your own secret close to your chest. You don't want Dabi to know that you're still experiencing abuse, still being forced to do things you don't want to do. You don't want pity or sympathy. You just want to be understood.

Dabi is lost in his own pain, too consumed by his own trauma to notice the pain in your eyes. He continues to share his story, the words pouring out of him as if they've been waiting to escape for years. And as he talks, you sit there, listening silently, your own pain festering inside of you, threatening to bubble over.

Dabi pauses for a moment, his eyes locked on the pond's shimmering surface. He's quiet for so long that you wonder if he's done sharing. Then, without looking at you, he whispers, "I'm sorry." The apology surprises you, coming out of the blue. You glance over at him, and for a moment, his veneer of nonchalance slips, and you can see the raw vulnerability in his eyes.

"There is no need to apologize," I tell him as I gently put my hand on his shoulder.

Dabi stiffens for a moment at your touch but then relaxes slightly under your comforting touch. His gaze flicks to your hand on his shoulder, and for a fleeting moment, you can see a flicker of emotion in his eyes. Something fragile and fragile and broken that he has probably been shoving deep down for years.

"I'm sorry for burdening you with all this," Dabi mutters, almost to himself. "For putting all this heavy stuff on you. It's not fair." His voice is softer now, a hint of vulnerability slipping through the cracks of his hardened exterior.

"Dabi, look at me. There is no need to apologize. I don't want to hear those words out of your mouth again." I tell him, not wanting him to apologize for telling me what he feels.

Dabi's eyes flicker up to meet yours, surprise flashing in his gaze. No one has ever said those words to him before. No one has ever told him not to apologize for his pain. But the raw sincerity in your voice seems to reach him, and he gives a slight nod. "Alright," he mutters, his voice barely a whisper. "No more apologies. Only honesty."

You exchange a moment of silent understanding, the moment charged with a new level of intimacy. And then Dabi turns back to the sky, his gaze tracking the stars above. You can see the weight of his past still clinging to him, but there's also a sense of... release. As if sharing his past with you has lifted a small portion of the weight off his shoulders.

"How about you?" Dabi asks suddenly, breaking the silence. "Do you have any traumatic life experiences you want to share?" There's genuine curiosity in his eyes now, the first hint of vulnerability you've seen since meeting him.

"Nothing that compares to your pain. What i experienced could have  been worse." I reply to his question, lying straight to him. Though it was the truth to me, I believe others' problems are bigger than my own, because me being abused and r@ped is not important to me, that its happening to someone else is my problem.

Dabi frowns slightly at your dismissive reply, sensing the lie in your words. "That's bullshit," he mutters, a hint of anger creeping into his voice. "Don't downplay your experiences. Your pain is as valid as mine. Don't act like it's nothing."

"It could be worse, Dabi, so it's not that bad."

Dabi's frown deepens, the anger in his voice turning to mild frustration. "That's bullshit, Y/N. Don't do that. Don't pretend like your pain doesn't matter just because it 'could be worse'. Pain is pain, and if it's hurting you, it's worth talking about. So drop the act and just be honest," he says, his tone a mix of annoyance and concern.

You look at him with suprise. No one has ever been like this with you. No one has seen through your lies and seen your pain as something that matters. You just nod and start telling Dabi everything that happened and people have done to you. You told him about how your parents punish you when not being perfect. How the people you were supposed to call your family r@ped you and whipped you for their own pleasure. How your mother did nothing to help you through any of this, she in fact joined them in torturing you. And how they would lock you in the closet for weeks without giving you anything to eat because of your low ranking. You never wanted to be a hero, you wanted to live a happy life with the love of your life in a little cottage in the woods away from everyone and everything, with your lover and your children playing in the mud, ot in the trees together, that's all you ever wanted in your life, to be happy with someone. But like everyone says life's a bitch and then you die. There were so many times I thought I was going to die, and after this week with Dabi. I most likely will.

Dabi's eyes widen in shock and anger as you recount your stories of abuse. His fists clench tightly, the veins in his arms straining against his skin. Fury and rage burn deep in his turquoise gaze, his jaw tightening as he struggles to contain his emotions.

As you finish speaking, a deathly silence settles between you. The atmosphere is thick with tension, the air heavy with the weight of the pain you both share. Dabi's breathing is shallow, his body rigid as he tries to grapple with the information you've shared.

"Y/N...." His voice is low, tinged with a mix of pain and anger. "Why.... Why did you let them do all that? Why did you let them get away with it?" His eyes search yours, a mixture of confusion and frustration. "Why didn't you fight back?"

"I already tried, it didn't work. I told the police I showed them everything, the scars, the videos, anything and everything to get them arrested. The police didn't believe me, though who would believe a child. After I tried that, I knew whatever I did to try and stop them, it wasn't going to work, so I just stopped. "

Dabi's anger flares at your answer, his jaw clenching tightly. "The police," he mutters, his voice full of contempt. "Of course those useless assholes couldn't do anything to help." He growls, his fists clenching so tight, his knuckles turn white.

"They were supposed to protect you," he spits. "They were supposed to help you, and they failed. They failed miserably."

"But you didn't deserve that," he continues, his tone growing softer, more vulnerable. "No one does. No one deserves to suffer like that, especially you." He reaches out, gently cupping your cheek with a touch that's surprisingly tender. His thumb traces the outline of your cheekbone, a touch that's gentle, almost affectionate.

You flinched at his touch at first, but after a few seconds, you leaned into his touch. You wished you could stay like this forever. You felt safe. He made you feel safe. You wished that he wanted you as a soulmate. You didn't want to force him, so instead of making him feel uncomfortable, all you did was just lean into his touch a little.

Dabi freezes for a moment as you flinched at his touch, a flicker of doubt crossing his face. But then you lean into his touch, and his eyes widen slightly, a hint of surprise mixing with something more tender. He can't remember the last time someone showed him physical affection like this.

He leans a little closer, his other hand gently cupping your other cheek, his thumb tracing a soothing pattern on your skin. You can see the conflict in his eyes as he battles with his emotions, the fierce anger and protectiveness warring with the vulnerability and affection.

"I won't ever let anyone else hurt you, alright?" Dabi's voice is low, a fierce whisper. "You won't suffer like that ever again. Not under my watch." He leans his forehead against yours, a rare moment of openness and vulnerability from the cold, aloof villain. And in this moment, even though he doesn't say it, you can feel a deep sense of protectiveness and possessiveness from him, a need to keep you safe.

You nod. You wondered if that meant that he would let you be his soulmate if he'd et you stay after this week was over. You wished and hoped he was telling you the truth right now.

"We should probably head back, it getting late," you tell Dabi, eve though you didn't want to leave. You check the time. It was 1am, and you both had been talking for over 6 hours.

You get up, not waiting for his answer, you grav his hand and help him up and start to walk back to his house. You don't let his hand go, though.

Dabi follows you silently, letting you lead the way. He doesn't pull away from you or try to break the contact. Instead, he allows himself to be led back to his house, the warmth of your hand in his a comforting presence.

As you walk, Dabi's mind races, conflicted. His entire life, he's been alone, pushing everyone away to shield himself from potential heartbreak. But as he walks beside you, holding your hand, a part of him longs for something more.

Finally, you reach his house, the familiar surroundings a stark contrast to the vulnerable atmosphere you've shared. Dabi hesitates for a moment, his hand still holding yours. He glances at you, and you can see the flicker of a smile at his lips, a momentary crack in his usual facade.

"Thanks," he mutters, his voice a low rumble. "For listening to me. And for sharing your own stories too." The words are filled with a sincerity that surprises even himself, as if he's not used to expressing gratitude.

"I'll be here for you until the day you don't want me here. And there is no need to thank me, i should be thanking you for listening to my problems, when you arleady have tour own." I tell him as we walk to bed.

Dabi's lips twitch at your words, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He hadn't expected you to offer your support unquestioningly, had assumed that everyone would eventually turn their back on him. But despite his disbelief, a small flame of hope sparks within him, warmth spreading in his chest.

As you head to bed, Dabi remains silent, the gravity of your promise settling heavily on him. He wasn't used to people being there for him, but now, with you, the promise of companionship and understanding felt like a lifeline.

Once you both get into bed, Dabi's mind is still racing, the events of the evening replaying in his head. He turns to face you, the light from the moon filtering in through the curtains casting a silvery glow across your form.

For a moment, he hesitates, unsure of what to do. But then, driven by an inexplicable urge, he reaches out, gently touching your cheek. His fingertips trail across your skin, his touch whisper-soft, almost reverent.

"Y/N," he whispers, his voice barely above a breath. His gaze flicks to your face, searching your eyes for any sign of discomfort, any hint that he's overstepping your boundaries. But all he sees is acceptance, understanding, and a flicker of something deeper.

Unable to resist any longer, he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing against yours in a hesitant, gentle kiss.

You kiss him back, if someone where to tell you that your soulmaye who didn't want you this moring kissed you and accepted your problems, and promised to keep you safe you should have laugh at them. But now all you can feel is happiness, as you bothe pull away Dabi pulls you closer to him cuddling you close he whispers in your ear. " I'll never let you go. I will protect you no matter what. And I might finally see why you love this romantic soulmate stuff."

Dabi's words, whispered in your ear, send shivers down your spine. The vulnerability in his voice, the raw emotion, it's a side of him you've never seen before. Dabi, the intimidating villain who always kept his distance, is finally opening up, showing you a flicker of the man beneath the scars.

As he cuddles you close, holding you tightly in his arms, a sense of safety envelops you. His body is warm and solid against yours, a protective shield against the cruel world outside.

Hours pass as the two of you lay entwined together, the moon casting shadows on the walls as it travels across the night sky. Dabi's breathing is now slow and even against your hair, his grip on you loosened but still possessive.

You watch him sleep, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest a soothing sight. A sense of contentment envelopes you, a serenity that you hadn't felt in a long time. For once, you feel safe and cared for, your soulmate's presence a balm for the traumas of your past.

As your eyes start to flutter closed, you allow yourself to drift into a deep, peaceful sleep, wrapped in Dabi's embrace. The gentle rise and fall of his chest is a lullaby that eases you into dreamland, and for the first time in ages, you feel a sense of protection and safety that you've always yearned for. The horrors of the past seem a little farther away, and the present moment is filled with the warmth of your soulmate's presence. With Dabi by your side, everything feels better, more hopeful.

The End

[bleach-your-panties]

💔the financial abuser - kingpin!touya todoroki  x black! wife!reader

warnings: modern au/no quirks, drug family business, mention of past child abuse (y'all know the story), family illness (not touya or y/n), oral (m! receiving), car sex, pre-marital sex, dacryphilia, degradation, breeding kink, size kink, pregnancy, coercion, controlling/obsessive behavior, stalking, angry outbursts, choking (not in a sexual context), drug use, gaslighting, manipulation, verbal abuse, emotional abuse, mental illness, serious injury/hospitalization. read at your own risk!

☠️: some dialogue/actions inspired by true events.

💔: banner images from pinterest

💔: banner made by me with canva

💔post themes: ain't about the money  - t.i. ft. young thug

                           soldier - destiny's child

                       throat baby (remix) - 

 brs kash ft. city girls

                           baby by me - 50 cent ft. neyo

                           whatever you like - t.i.

                           what you know - t.i.

                             superman - eminem

                           papers - usher

                    roses - outkast

                           gold digger - kanye west

💔9.7k words!

💔read in dark mode for best experience!

🖤yo. 🖤series. 🖤iida.

—-

----

If you ain’t no punk, holler,

“We want prenup!”

“We want prenup!”

Yeah, that’s something that you need to have

‘Cause when she leave yo ass

She gone leave with half

___

You met your husband, Touya, at a hair salon in your neighborhood. 

In the "hood", so to speak. You grew up in an impoverished neighborhood in one of the roughest cities to live in in the nation, with an 80% black population and a violent crime rate 95% higher than the national average.

Although it was dangerous as hell, the living conditions were less than desirable, and you were constantly surrounded by sketchy people, this was your home.

You'd grown up in this city and attended school here from elementary through university. Now at age 26, you're a successful chemical engineer, working as a consultant for the city's power plant. 

Your parents are both deceased unfortunately; your father died in your childhood and your mother passed away after a long battle with breast cancer just after your senior year of university, so as far as family went, you only had your dear aunt, who was getting up in age.

She's your father's sister, having supported you throughout most of your academic life by helping you get back and forth to campus, attending all necessary parental conferences when your mother was too sick to, and finally, attending all of your graduation ceremonies. You are extremely thankful for her.

Present day, all you do is work, pretty much. 

With your work, you usually have to keep your hair pulled back in a tight bun and covered with a protective hair cap. It was always a relief to be able to get your hair done and have your stylist rub her long, acrylic nails against your scalp while she lathered your natural tresses with sweet-smelling shampoo.

The soft ding of the bell hanging over the door alerted you to a newcomer's presence while you sat underneath the dryer reading one of the old Jet magazines that every salon always seemed to keep on hand. 

"Good afternoon, ladies."

You looked up from your magazine and your dark brown eyes fell upon the most handsome man you had ever seen. 

Tall, muscular frame, skin the color of freshly churned milk and hulking arms a collage of black ink. He was no shorter than 6'5'' at the least. You could tell by the way that he had to duck under the door frame to come inside the shop. 

"Heyyy, Touya~" Your eyes moved around, pupils enlarging as you realized that every other woman in the shop had stopped whatever they were doing to greet this man.

Just who is this guy?

He walked further inside the small salon, his small, narrowed, turquoise eyes roaming over each and every feminine face before stopping at yours.

Oh no, he's walking over here!

Your face began to heat up; you hated being put on the spot and this man was just too gorgeous, you might faint! 

He smirked at you and dug his big hands into the pockets of his black joggers.

"What's up, pretty? I think I would remember seeing a face as gorgeous as yours around here. What's your name?" 

Your stylist came over then, smacking her lips at Touya and motioning for you to come over to her chair.

"Leave her alone, Touya. She wants nothing to do with the likes of you. She's a good girl, she's not interested in thugs."

That made your blush worsen and you lowered your head to the tiled floor, hoping that he'd just move on and bother one of the other women.

Touya laughed loudly. He brought his arms up to rest behind his hair, which you now noticed to be a brilliant white, just like freshly fallen snow. 

His big biceps bulged and you could see that they were also covered in tattoos. He even had them all along his neck, trailing upwards to just under his chiseled jawline and then downwards, disappearing into his white V-neck.

"How do you know what she likes, Tisha? And I'm not a thug, I'm a well-respected businessman, I'll have you know."

The entire shop cracked up at that, making your anxiety lessen just as you looked up to further examine this man.

Unfortunately, he caught you looking and bit his lip at you. Usually, the gesture would've made you cringe, but it was different when he did it. It was sexy. 

His lips were a little plump and when he bit them, you could see two glints of silver: a tongue stud and a lip stud.

"Y/n is my name." You said simply. 

He smiled this time and squatted down so you didn't have to crane your neck to look at his face.

"Y/n, huh? Pretty name for a pretty girl."

You almost wanted to roll your eyes, but instead, you smiled.

"Thank you….Touya…"

He nodded slightly. More glints of silver when he made the gesture; he also had his right eyebrow pierced, three stud piercings in his nostril, and multiple silver hoops in each ear.

“God had no business making this man this damn fine.”

A deep chuckle broke you out of your thought process.

"Well, I appreciate that, beautiful. Tisha, don't charge her anything for her hair. I'll pay for it."

Aw, shit, did I say that out loud?! Nice going, Y/n!

"What? No! You don't have to do that, I can pay for myself!" You huffed. You knew this game all too well.

If he paid for your hair, he'd feel like you owed him something. Not a chance.

"Oh, girl hush and let that man pay for you. Keep that $750 in your pocket, shit." Tisha chuckled as she began to install your wig.

Touya handed her the money out of his wallet while grinning. He held his hands up, palms facing you in a gesture of surrender.

“I promise I don’t want anything in return, but maybe you wouldn’t mind grabbing breakfast with me one day? I know this great spot right down the street from the salon.”

You scoffed, now finally rolling your eyes at him.

“That’s still wanting something, pretty boy, even if it’s only a meal.”

Touya shrugged. “So that’s a no, then? Too bad. I won’t keep bothering you, though. See ya around, pretty girl.” He teased with a smug look on his face before turning and walking back out the door of the salon.

A few hours later, Tisha was done with your hair. She handed you a mirror so you could look at yourself.

“Thanks, Tish, it looks amazing!” You dug in your purse for your wallet so you could give her a tip, but she stopped you.

“Girl, what are you doing? Touya already paid me.” Eyebrows scrunched, you pushed the $20 bill into her hand anyway and got up out of the chair before she could protest.

“Just take it. Maybe next time I come I can get a discount on my lash installment.” 

“Girl, you crazy! Get on out of here!” 

You left the shop smiling to yourself. The bell tinkled over your head as you walked out into the bright sunlight. 

Your smile immediately dropped when you walked over to your car and noticed that you had a flat tire.

“Oh no, what the hell?! When did that get there? Aw, man…” 

The offending item that had punctured your tire was a long, rusty nail sticking out the side of it. 

“Dammit, now I’m going to have to call a tow truck.” You sighed and pulled your iPhone out of your purse.

“Need some help, pretty?”

It was Touya - he’s still been here all this time?

He casually leaned up against a smoke-gray Range Rover with black rims. The brake calipers had been spray-painted a deep purple.

“Oh, Touya. There’s a nail in my tire, but it’s fine, I can just call-”

“I can wait with you for the tow truck and then take you home.” He offered. Getting up off the truck, he stalked his way over, taking long strides. In a second, he was standing right next to you, so close that you could smell his expensive cologne.

You didn’t know how to react, just kind of looking up at him with a stuck expression on your face. 

“Uh, you really don’t have to…I could just call someone..”

“Why do that when I’m standing right here?”

A perfectly arched eyebrow raised. “Because I don’t know you? You could be a serial killer.” 

You know now that he’s most likely a drug dealer, like that was any better…but yeah.

Touya just laughed at you and shook his head. 

“Not gonna make it easy for me, huh? I like that. Keep it up, baby doll. I’ll get you sooner or later.” He walked back over to his truck and opened the driver-side door.

“At least come sit and chat with me until the tow truck comes?” You couldn’t continue to resist him, no matter how much you wanted to. Especially when he looked at you with those turquoise eyes.

—-

And that’s how your whirlwind romance began.

—-

Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger

But she ain’t messing with no broke niggas

Now I ain’t saying she a gold digger

But she ain’t messing with no broke niggas

Cutie the bomb, met her at a beauty salon

With a baby Louis Vuitton under her arm 

She said, “I can tell you rock, I can tell by your charm

Far as girls you got a flock

I can tell by your charm and your arm”

But I’m lookin’ for the one, have you seen her?

—-

After that day, you and Touya began somewhat of a friendship.

Whenever you came to get your hair done, he’d somehow always be there and he’d always pay for your hair, nails, and lashes. Turns out that he owned the beauty salon, the diner that he offered to take you out to, and pretty much everything else on that strip.

One day after you got off of work, you were surprised to see his truck out in the parking lot.

He was waiting for you.

“Touya! Funny meeting you here, what’s up?” You put your hands on your hips.

“I want to take you on a date tonight.” 

Your eyes bulged slightly, probably making you look like a fool, but Touya didn’t waver in his proposition. 

"What do you say, pretty? Go out with me?" 

You began weighing all the positives and negatives of going on a date with him. He could have a gaggle of jealous exes just waiting to catch him with another woman and raise hell, or one of his opps that was waiting to catch him slipping so they could blow his head off.

Tough decision, but eventually you folded and agreed.

—-

After your first date, you saw Touya more and more, seemingly everywhere you went.

The grocery store, the mall, restaurants. You even saw him across the street from your dentist's office one day while leaving an appointment.

Despite all of these seemingly random pop-ups, you found yourself undeniably attracted to Touya, which may have clouded your judgment just a tad.

So over the next several weeks, Touya would continue to show up at your job and surprise you with flowers, food from his diner, and lavish gifts.

This is how you would end up kneeling underneath the dashboard in Touya's Range in the parking lot of the industrial plant, hours after your shift had ended.

His black sweatpants were pulled down his thick, muscled thighs and pooled around his ankles while you struggled to take his huge cock into your mouth.

He regarded you with those cool, turquoise eyes, one large hand planted firmly on the top of your head as he guided you up and down on his hard shaft.

"Just like that, pretty. Such a perfect, slutty mouth. Yeah, you like being slutted out outside of your job? Not the perfect, innocent little scholar right now, are you?" 

You hummed around his dick, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth while you breathed steadily through your nose. 

Touya's degradation never failed to turn you on, but sometimes you felt like he was just being mean intentionally.

His hands pressed down on your head harder, forcing you to take him further down your aching throat. Once he started, Touya wouldn't let up until he fucked your throat raw and tears streamed down your beautiful face, ruining your expensive makeup.  

He loved to see you cry.

"There you go, baby. That's my good girl. Take my cock like only you can." 

You moaned around him as best you could, but your jaw was aching and you felt like you'd pass out from lack of oxygen any moment now.

Suddenly, you were being pulled off of him by the roots of your hair. Touya dragged you over the center console into the backseat with you sputtering and trying to catch your breath.

"Down." He ordered and you immediately obeyed, getting on your hands and knees.

He clambered over you clumsily, his height preventing him from being able to get into the exact position that he wanted, but this would have to do.

"Arch." 

Tattooed hands came down to hold your lower hips as soon as you arched your back.

You were already wet from sucking him off, but due to the sheer size of Touya's dick, it wouldn't be enough.

Hiking one foot up, he removed one hand to guide his dick into your hole. You immediately felt the burn. 

"TOUYA! It's too much…" You moaned with your head turned slightly to the side to look over your shoulder at him.

"Not too much, baby. Never too much for you, my sweet girl. Take me, baby. Take my big fucking dick in your tiny little hole. I know you can do it."

Your freshly done acrylics scraped against the car door while Touya grabbed your expensive bundles up in one hand and forced your head completely flat on the floor with the other.

His pace was hard and rough, but he knew you were loving everything that he was giving you judging by your moans.

"Shit, pussy's so good baby, sucking me in so nice…fuuuccck!"

Of all of the women that he's fucked, you were the only one that had been able to take all of him without passing out.

It was a shock to you as well, how you hadn't passed out already from Touya's deep stroking. No doubt his fat tip was hitting your cervix; you could feel him in your damn stomach.

"Touya, I'm going to cum!" Your words were muffled, but he could just make out what you were trying to say and feel you clenching around him.

His eyes watched your ass move in waves as he pounded into you with everything he had, no doubt making the entire car shake from the sheer force of his thrusts.

“Come on, cum on this dick, baby. Make a mess on me, baby doll,” He cooed softly, leaning over you to press you against the floor as he rolled his hips into you.

"TOUYA!"

"Yes, scream my name, girl! SHIT!"

—-

The next thing you knew, you were waking up in the front of a large mansion with a high, wrought-iron gate around it. It was surrounded by acres of land, all to itself off in the countryside. A soft, fleece blanket covered your naked body.

"Where are we? Is this your house?"

"Fucked you so good you lost your memory, baby, but yes, this is my house." 

"Why'd you bring me here?" 

"Why wouldn't I? Why, you'd rather me fuck your brains out and just leave you passed out, only to wake up alone in a fucking parking lot in the dark? Come on, Y/n." You could see him roll his eyes through the rearview mirror.

Remaining silent, you just hugged the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

"So where do we go from here, Touya? What's next for us?" 

He hit a button and the doors unlocked. Touya came around to open your door and then scooped you up into his strong arms, holding you close to his chest.

"I brought you here in hopes that you'd agree to be my girlfriend."

"What if I say no?"

"Then I have to kill you."

"WHAT!?"

"I'm just playing, girl. Damn. So will you? Will you be my baby?"

—-

Touya and you began dating that night, and not even six months later, he asked you to marry him.

And you said yes.

Now, you believed that you were in love with Touya. He treated you like a princess and showered you with expensive gifts: jewelry, cars, designer clothes, shoes, and bags. Whatever your heart desired. Not to mention he was sweet, attentive, caring, loving, and amazing in bed.

Little did you know that Touya had another side to him.

—-

Stacks on deck, patron on ice

And we could pop bottles all night, and, 

Baby, you could have whatever you like

I said you could have whatever you like, yeah

Late-night sex, so wet, it's so tight

I gas up the jet for you tonight 

And baby you can go wherever you like

I said you can go wherever you like, yeah

—-

While you were planning your wedding, many of your friends and family members came to you with concerns about your fiance. Including your beloved aunt.

“That boy is no good, Y/n. I’m telling you. Just look into those cold, soulless eyes of his. That boy is not right in the head.” She would rant as you sat on her living room couch with wedding books opened up all around you. 

"Please, Auntie. Touya is a good guy. Sure, he's in the streets, but he'd never hurt me." 

"You don't sound too sure of yourself." 

Rolling your eyes, you had heard enough of the negativity. 

Gathering up the books and magazines, you threw them into your new Louis Vuitton tote bag and pulled it onto your shoulder. 

"I have to go, Auntie, or I'll be late for my dress fitting. I love you." You leaned down to give her a hug and kiss on the jaw. 

"I love you, too, baby. Just please think about what I've been saying before you rush into this marriage, alright?" 

"Alright, I hear you. I'm gone."

You stepped out of her house and closed the screen door behind you. Your black BMW M3 with the custom purple wheels sat pretty in the driveway. Touya had it custom-painted for you, said that everyone needs to know that you're his woman.

As you were backing out of the driveway, you heard your phone vibrating in your bag. 

🖤🫶🏾Husband💜 would like to FaceTime…

You declined the request and hooked your phone up to the car mount, immediately calling him back on the phone.

"What the fuck, Y/n? Why are you declining my calls? Where the hell are you at? I've been calling you all damn day!" He barked through the receiver, making you cringe.

"I-I just got in the car, I'm leaving Auntie's house, on the way home now…" 

You could almost hear him rolling his eyes on the other end.

"Yeah, and what did she want now? Still bitching about you marrying me?" He scoffed.

"Touya, stop that. She's only concerned about me, that's all."

"Yeah, whatever you say, Y/n. I know that your whole fucking family despises me, not that I give a fuck, though. I'm marrying you, not any of them."                

"That's true, Touya, but it would be better if you at least tried to get along with them."

"Well, maybe they should stop judging a book by its cover and try to get along with me since I'm about to be your husband."

"I don't think that's how it works, but okay, Touya. I'll be pulling up in a little bit."

"Are you trying to rush me off the phone? I called because I want to see you before I leave tonight. Gotta fly to Tijuana for business."

Of course, 'for business' meant, to pick up a "shipment".

—-

Ayy, don't you know I got kis by the three

When I chirp, shawty chirp back

Louie knapsack where I'm holding all the work at

What you know about that? 

What you know about that? 

What you know about that? 

I know all about that

—-

"And by 'see me', you mean get your dick wet. I have wedding stuff to do, baby. I have to fly to Paris to pick up my dress and how am I supposed to do that if you're taking the jet?" You complained. 

"Just send your assistant to get it. I need you here to take care of me, baby doll, just like how I take care of you. Come on, now."

You wanted to retort that you needed to be there to try it on, but there was no arguing with Touya, especially when he wanted sex.

"Okay, I'm almost there. Tell the guards to open the gate."

—-

"Ohh shit, Touya, baby, give me that dick~"

"Yeah baby, you like that?" 

And that's how the two of you went along for the rest of the night, Touya putting you in all different types of positions, beating your shit in.

He was always rough, pulling your hair and smacking your ass until it was raw and red.

He made sure to leave marks all over your neck and titties as well, marring your brown skin so that whenever any man looked at you, they'd KNOW that you were getting dicked down by a real motherfucking king.

"God Y/n, how do you keep this shit so tight? I'm gonna bust my load in you, fuck around, and get you pregnant tonight, girl."

"Mmm, if we don't stop now you're going to miss your flight."

"Fuck it," He chuckled, "I'll call Shoto to handle it." 

Shoto, his younger brother who'd just finished college a semester ago. Touya had taken him underneath his wing to train him to be next in line for the family business.

His other siblings, Natsuo and Fuyumi, wanted nothing to do with this life and just worked everyday blue-collar jobs.

"Here, get on top of me. Ride this dick while I make the call."

You sighed but complied nonetheless and crawled up onto his lap as he reclined against the head of your shared California king bed.

"Hello?" You heard Shoto's bland, emotionless voice come over the receiver.

"Hey Sho, I need you to go handle that for me. Jet's already loaded and ready to go."

"What? Why can't you do it?" 

"Because I told you to do it and I'm the boss."

"Yeah whatever, you're probably too busy fucking. Hey Y/n." He snickered, causing your cheeks to heat up. He knew his older brother too well.

Touya hung up on him and tossed the phone to the side, grabbing your hips and slamming you down onto his thick cock.

"You gonna let me get you pregnant, huh, baby? Gonna let me breed this little cunt, stuff you nice and full, and make you fat with my seed?" 

You weren't quite sure that you were ready to have a child, but you were starting to get up in age and you and Touya are getting married, so what's the harm? You nodded.

"Yes, Touya. I love you. Make me a mommy."

—-

Have a baby by me, baby, be a millionaire 

Have a baby by me, baby, be a millionaire

Have a baby by me, baby, be a millionaire

Be a millionaire, be a millionaire, b-be a millionaire  

I don't play no games (I don't play no games)

So when I'm in that thang (when I'm in that thang)

Come see what I mean (see what I mean)

See what I mean, see what I mean, oh

I said lil mama put me on (baby, put me on)

Bet I'll have you gone (bet I'll have you gone)

Come see what I mean, see what I mean

See what I mean (see what I mean)

New music, new mood, new position 

New erotic sounds, it's going down, now listen

I can hear your heartbeat, you're sweating

I could paint a perfect picture 

I get deeper and deeper, I told ya I'd get ya

I'd work that murk that, just the way you like it, baby

Turn a quickie into an all-nighter maybe

Yo, I need you to be what I need, more than liquor and weed

I need you to maybe give me a seed

I need you to give me reason to breathe

I need you

—-

Time Skip, Wedding Day

"Are you sure that you want to do this?" Fuyumi asked you while she was putting your veil in your hair.

You only giggled softly, rubbing a hand over your small baby bump.

"I think it's a little too late to back out now, Fuyumi." She shook her head, making her white and red curls bounce.

"It's never too late to change your mind. You're not his wife, yet. Y/n, I love my brother with all of my heart, but honestly, you deserve so much better than him."

It was hurtful to hear, but you weren't shocked by the young woman's words.

Natsuo and Fuyumi were like your family; they also didn't think that you should marry Touya.

"I'm pregnant with his child, Fuyu, and I don't want to be a single mother. I love Touya with all my heart as well, and whatever he went through in the past, we can get through it together. I'll be there for him, til death do us part."

Fuyumi just let out a long sigh and tried to put on a smile.

"I can't say I didn't try, but okay. If this is what will really make you happy. Just please take care of yourself and the baby, no matter what. Protect yourself."

She handed you your bouquet just as the wedding music began playing. 

"I'll see you at the altar."

She left, leaving you alone. You peeked out the door and saw the flower girls and ring bearers go down the aisle. 

Taking a deep breath, you exhaled and tightened your hands around your flowers.

"Hey, beautiful."

Your head whipped around so fast you almost gave yourself whiplash.

It was Touya, standing there in his all-white suit with a purple silk dress shirt opened up to show off his tattooed chest. 

"Touya!? What are you doing here, you're supposed to be at the altar!"

"Hmm, the wedding can't start without us, baby. I just wanted to give you something really quick."

He reached into the breast pocket of the suit jacket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and a pen.

You watched him carefully.

"What is this?"

"A prenup."

"A what? Touya, I'm not signing a prenup minutes before our wedding! Why are you just bringing this to me now?"

He furrowed his white eyebrows, not liking the tone you were taking with him.

"I'm sorry, but who do you think you're talking to, Y/n? You should know not to ever raise your voice at me. Not even my own mother yells at me, baby doll, and you're damn sure not about to start. Now sign the goddamn prenup or I'm calling all this shit off." 

No way! He wouldn't actually call the wedding off, would he? Not after all of your hard work, not after everything you'd been through in the past couple of months.

Your dear aunt had been diagnosed with coronary artery disease a few months ago and hadn't been doing too well. She'd been in and out of the hospital frequently and even had to leave her job because of it.

You begged Touya to hire an in-home nurse to care for her and, after much disagreement, he finally let you.

Why would he do this to you now? Moments before your special day? 

With your lower lip wobbling and tears beginning to spill out of your eyes, you took the paper with a shaky hand and signed your signature on the line, initialing where it directed you to.

Touya chuckled darkly once you were done and took it back from you, stuffing it into his pocket.

Why would he make you sign a prenup? You didn't know much about this type of stuff, but usually, prenups weren't good.

However, you couldn't fathom losing Touya or your fairytale life. You were finally getting everything that you ever wanted.

A family.

"Hey, don't cry, baby doll. You know I'll always take care of you, right?"

He moved in to kiss you, his hand covering your bump and rubbing it softly. With his pinky, he swiped the tears from under your eyes, careful not to smudge your face makeup.

You nodded slowly and he smiled at you. 

"I love you, Y/n." 

With that, he left the room.

—

Five Years Later 

Being married to Touya was not at all how you expected it to be.

After quitting your job and becoming a full-time housewife, your life seemed to go into a downward spiral.

While you were dating, you’d found out that Touya and his siblings had grown up in an abusive household where his father beat him, his siblings, and their mother. His mother had had a hard time coping with what she'd been through, so the four siblings had agreed to have her committed to a mental health care facility.

During their childhood, in a fit of psychosis, their mother threw a pot of boiling water on Shoto, disfiguring the left side of his face. An ugly, red-marred patch of skin now covered the once-perfect porcelain. 

After that incident, Touya left home and never looked back. 

He talked very little about his father, so what you did know, you had to find out from Fuyumi, who still maintained limited contact with their father. Neither Natsuo nor Shoto talked about the man. 

Many times, you had tried to persuade Touya to get therapy in order to deal with his past traumas, but he never listened. If anything, he would become completely enraged whenever you would broach the subject.

It also didn't help that Touya was now even more deeply involved in the drug lifestyle. 

At first, it didn't bother you as much as it should have, but as time went on things just got worse and worse.

Your son, Takuya, was now five years old and you really didn't want him exposed to the people and dealings that Touya was involved in.

Takuya would ask you many questions:

Mommy, why is Daddy never home?

Who are these strange people in our house?

Why can't my friends come over to spend the night?

Why does Daddy have flour underneath his nose?

Yes.

Touya had been abusing cocaine ever since your third year of marriage.

He said that it helped ease his mind. Made him forget the past. 

A knock came on his office door, causing the turquoise-eyed man to look up at it.

"What, Y/n?" He asked in irritation once he looked up and saw you standing there, just staring at him.

"Are you seriously getting high in the middle of the day?"

Spread out over his desktop were multiple, identical lines of freshly chopped cocaine. With a rolled-up hundred-dollar bill, Touya closed off one of his nostrils while he used the bill to snort the white powder into the other.

He did it effortlessly, almost elegantly. 

"Touya, really? What if Takuya ever walked in and saw you doing this shit? You know he's getting older now, and he's started asking me questions about your…habit."

Touya didn’t seem deterred; better yet, he most likely hadn’t heard a word that you’d said as he focused on the feeling of the drug entering his system.

“Did you fucking need something, Y/n? If not, then kindly get the fuck out. I’m busy.”

You gave him an incredulous look but bit your tongue and nodded.

“I need you to sign the check for Takuya’s school tuition so I can mail it off today.”

Touya sucked his teeth and sniffled. With the back of his tattooed hand, he wiped his nose roughly.

“Of course, that’s what you always need. Money. “

With a soft sigh, you prepared yourself for one of his rants. On top of abusing drugs, Touya had been diagnosed with, post-traumatic stress disorder, dissociative identity disorder, and bipolar disorder. 

You’d seen him dissociate firsthand, especially when he was high. You figured that the alternate personality that he’d created stemmed from his traumatic childhood. This persona’s name was Dabi, and Dabi was not nice by any means. He was awful, much worse than normal, agitated Touya.

If it wasn’t for you insisting on having genetic testing done while you were pregnant, you’d have never found out what mental ailments your husband had been suffering from. 

“Well…if you hadn’t taken my name off of all the accounts, I could have done it myself and not have to disturb you while you’re taking care of business.” You finally snipped. You’d had enough of Touya’s drug abuse, verbal abuse, and emotional abuse.

You had gotten sick of him always taunting you, downplaying you, and making you feel as if you were less of a person because you had left your job, your family, and everything that you knew, in order to cling to him and become his wife.

He made you feel low, lower than the earth beneath your feet, and you had had enough of him.

To pour even more salt into your stinking, infected wounds, Touya treated you like a child. 

You had an allowance, you had to call and check in with him anytime you left the house, and he didn’t let you go anywhere without him or one of his guards. 

It hadn’t always been like this. No, this behavior only began once you attempted to leave him the first time.

You’d tried to leave Touya many times over the past five years, but your efforts were always in vain. No matter what you did or where you tried to go, he would always find you and bring you back, literally kicking and screaming. After a while, you just decided to give up, telling yourself that you’d never be able to get away from him.

—-

Mmmm

You high, baby? (Yeah)

Yeah? (Hahaha, talk to me)

You want me to tell you something? (Uh huh)

I know what you want to hear 

—-

The veins in his neck bulged and he turned on you, turquoise eyes flashing with lightning.

“Did you just talk back to me?”

The blood froze in your veins as Touya stood up, calmly pushing his desk chair back. The wheels screeched eerily across the wooden floor. Touya stomped towards you like a panther, waiting to attack and kill its prey.

“T-Touya- I…”

One hand was all it took to constrict your breathing. Touya held you up like a doll, the muscles in his arm barely flexing as he slammed you against the wooden double doors of the office entrance, making them rattle violently. Your little legs thrashed as you moved your body, attempting to get Touya off of you, to no avail.

“Bitch, how dare you disrespect me, after all I’ve done for you. I took you out of that shitty neighborhood you were living in, took care of you and that fucking brat, took care of your whole fucking family despite them cursing the very ground that I walk on. This is how you repay me? Flapping your fucking lips at me? HUH?!?!”

He yelled directly in your face, making you squint your eyes as spit flew from his lips. His face was so close to yours that you could see up his nostrils, see the white residue from the hit he’d just taken.

If he didn’t let you down soon, you’d pass out. Touya soon realized this, and he let you go, let your body drop to the ground with a ‘thud’ while he stepped back and regarded you without a smidgen of concern.

Your hands flew to your throat as you coughed violently. Your chest burned as you tried to regain the precious oxygen that your lungs had been deprived of for far too long.

—-

You know you want me, baby

You know I want you, too

They call me Superman

I'm here to rescue you 

I wanna save you, girl

Come be in Shady's world

(Ooo, boy, you drive me crazy)

Bitch, you make me hurl

—-

"You act like…," you wheezed, then halted to take in a few more deep breaths, "you act like I wasn't somebody before I met you. Like I wasn't on my own, living independently and happily before you came along and messed it all up!"

He must have found your lamentation amusing, because he chuckled, deep in his chest.

"Oh Y/n…when have you ever been independent? Your whole life you've always depended on someone. Your aunt, your family, your friends, and then me. You think you're so special, because what, you went to school and got a degree?"

Said degree was displayed on the back wall of his office. He'd let you hang it there after buying an expensive, mahogany wooden frame lined in real 24k gold for it. A gift for your first year wedding anniversary.

Now the object seemed to offend Touya. He made a beeline for it and snatched it off the back wall before sending it hurling across the room, narrowly missing you before it went crashing against the wall next to the door and shattering.

You whimpered in fear as he began walking back over to you. 

Kneeling down so that he was eye-level with you, much like he'd done at your first meeting in the salon, he glared at you with eyes colder than Antarctica. 

"How's that degree working for you now, Y/n? You're nothing more than a stupid slut willing to open her legs for the first man that showed her any shred of attention. You're pathetic, and I can't stand the fucking sight of you." He said lowly, the baritone of his voice rumbling in your ears.

You buried your head in your hands, the tears flowing freely down your firearms as you tried to shield yourself from him, from his rage. His hatred.

It wasn't like Touya had never yelled at you before or threw fits when he was high, but this was the first time in five years that he'd ever put his hands on you.

And it would be the last. 

"That's it, Touya! I've had enough! You're impossible and I'm finished dealing with you and your issues. I'm leaving for good this time."

Touya laughed at you again. He just kept laughing for a long time.

"That's really funny. Have fun trying to leave me with no money and nowhere to go. You'll be back. You always come back, Y/n, because you can't survive without me."

Your tear-soaked face curled up in disgust; you couldn't believe what this man was saying to you right now.

"Since you're so adamant on leaving though, you can go ahead and get the fuck out." 

"Pardon?" 

He stood to full height again.

"Did I stutter? Get the fuck out of my house, right now, Y/n." 

"No! We're married, which makes this my house, too! You can't just put me out!"

He must have thought that you still weren't getting enough oxygen to your brain, because Touya grabbed you by the arms and hoisted you up.

You kicked, screamed, and clawed at him all the way, almost causing him to drop you a few times, but finally he made it to the large ornate doors leading to the outside of the estate.

"NO! TOUYA, NO! NO!" 

—-

They call me Superman

Leap tall hoes in a single bound

I'm single now

Got no ring on this finger now

I'll never let another chick bring me down

In a relationship? Save it, bitch

Babysit? You make me sick

Superman ain't saving shit 

Girl, you can jump on Shady's dick

—-

Thank goodness Takuya was at school and not here to witness the scene of his father throwing his mother out of her own house.

"I hate you, Touya! You hear me?! I HATE YOU! You won't get away with this!" 

Was the last thing the snow-haired man heard before he slammed the door in your face. You heard all of the locks and the deadbolt click.

With fury, you kicked at the closed door with all your might.

You were kicked out now, with nothing. Not your purse, wallet, clothes, phone, or anything. Only your Apple watch on your wrist, which you guessed might be a bit of help.

Looking down at it, you noticed that it was charged to 75%, which was good. You'd have time to get to a charger. 

With an indignant huff, you rushed down the many stairs leading from the house and into the driveway where your car was parked.

It would be a dumb idea to get in and try to drive it, because Touya more likely than not had a tracker installed into it. However, you had an idea.

—-

Don't put out, I'll put you out 

Won't get out, I'll push you out

Puss blew out, popping shit

Wouldn't piss on fire to put you out

—-

See, though you had been quite gullible the past five years, believing that your sham of a marriage was pure and true, and that your bastard of a husband was your Prince Charming, you were still a college-educated woman and had plenty of good sense to use.

When Touya started getting high every other day, you began stealing his money and putting it away when he wasn't looking.

Small amounts here and there that you passed off with simple excuses that Touya found to be believable. No way his dumb little housewife would ever think to steal from him.

How wrong he was.

You had accumulated a good amount over the last three years, but when you first tried to leave Touya, he became suspicious of you, thus limiting your access to the money by taking your name off the accounts and giving you a weekly allowance. 

How stupid of him.

You took a portion of that money and stored it away every month, in case you ever needed it. In case you finally got the courage to leave Touya and never look back.

The day had finally come.

Pulling up to your sister-in-law's house, you waited for her to come to the door. Looking down at your Gucci slides, you felt embarrassed about the situation that had just occurred. 

"Y/n! What are you doing here? What's happened?" 

With the look on your face, she immediately knew that something terrible had happened and that her elder brother was more than likely the cause of it. 

She moved aside so you could come inside. You sat on her couch and put your hands in your lap.

After swallowing down the lump in your throat, you began to speak.

"Touya…he, um, he locked me out of the house."

"HE WHAT?!"

You had to cover your ears slightly from the sheer volume of her exasperated voice.

"Yeah. We got into an argument and he tossed me out onto my ass like Jazz from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air."

Fuyumi didn't laugh at your joke; instead, she gave you a look of sympathy. 

"Y/n…I'm sorry you had to go through that…" Her voice began to crack and you gave her a questioning gaze.

"Was he…?" She couldn't even finish the question. 

You immediately understood and nodded.

"Yes. He was high." 

"And where was Takuya?"

"He's at school."

A sigh of relief from the white-haired woman. "Thank the heavens."

Fuyumi moved from her spot on the opposite couch to come over and give you a tight hug. You sank into her warm embrace and hugged her back, more tears bubbling up as feelings of shame, stupidity, and anger came to the surface. 

"It's okay, Y/n. It's all going to be okay. I feel like this is my fault. I should have tried harder to get you to leave Touya. I should have-"

You stopped her from talking by pulling away from the hug and giving her a small glare.

"Don't you dare try to blame yourself for his actions. He's a grown ass man, yet he acts like a child. Don't worry, Fuyumi. This time I'm done with him for good. It's time for me to move along in my life with my child and leave Touya's miserable ass behind. I tried everything to help him and all he did was treat me like shit for five years."

Fuyumi was a bit stunned to hear you speak with so much initiative, but she nodded, nonetheless.

"If you need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to call me or Natsu. We want what's best for you and Takuya. Always." 

—-

After talking with Fuyumi for a little while longer, she ended up calling Natsuo over, who works as a mechanic.

With a little trial and error, he managed to remove the tracker from your car. Touya had hidden it meticulously, but he was no match for Natsuo's years of experience with machinery.

You finally bid your brother-in-law and sister-in-law goodbye so you could go and speak to your lawyer before picking up Takuya from school.

—-

I can't get to work on time

Can't believe the words to him I just said

Who the hell argue and fight 

Like dogs at six in the morning?

I know it's gonna be some more shit tonight (oooh) 

Our pastor's calling, telling me I done went too far, 

And I'm sitting round town and my friends can't recognize me

Cause I took a chance on love 

It's like, I'm dying (ooo dying)

For you, I gave my heart

And turned my back against the world

Because I was your girl, girl, girl

I done damn near lost my mama

I done been through so much drama

I done turned into the woman I never thought I'd be

I'm ready to sign them papers, papers 

—-

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Todoroki, but the prenup that you signed is very much valid. According to this, he really doesn't have to give you anything."

You blew out a frustrated breath. How could you have been such a fool? If Touya wanted to call the wedding off because you wouldn't sign, you should have just let him. 

It would have saved you a world of heartache and headache, that's for sure. 

"So, there's absolutely nothing that I can do?" You asked the well-dressed man in front of you. 

You fiddled with the rose gold, 5-carat diamond aquamarine pear-shaped ring set on your left ring finger. 

“What about our son? Did he say anything about providing for him?”

The brunette man pushed his glasses from the bridge of his nose up to his eyes. 

“Despite his trying to implement a clause in which he wouldn’t have to pay child support since the child was conceived outside of the marriage, as the child’s biological father he’s still legally responsible for providing for Takuya. Though he could contest his paternity and ask for a DNA test.” He set the paper on the desk and looked at you.

“That slimy bastard…he did everything in his power to make sure that I’d never try to leave him. He’s sick….”

“Again, I’m very sorry, Mrs. Todoroki. I wish that there was more that I could tell you.”

“I just can’t believe this…Touya had all of this planned from the very start. He came to me in a moment where he knew I couldn’t refuse him. He knew that I needed to lean on him at that time and he took advantage of me.”

“What do you mean by 'took advantage of you'?” The man in front of you sat up straighter in his chair, slightly leaning his body towards you.

“Well, I never expected that Touya would ask me to sign a prenup. He never made it a priority to discuss how we’d do finances; he just always said that he’d take care of me. Which is why it was such a shock that he made me sign the prenup minutes before I was about to walk down the aisle to marry him.”

“He asked you to sign a prenup minutes before your wedding? He coerced you and didn’t even give you time to seek your own legal consultation. I’m glad you told me this, Mrs. Todoroki; this changes everything.” 

Could this be it? Could this finally be your way out of this marriage?

“And that’s not all! I was pregnant with Takuya at the time and my hormones were all over the place. My aunt…she’d been very sick as well, and it was just an overall bad time for me. I w-wasn’t thinking straight…I-I just…I just wanted someone to be there for me. I didn’t want Touya to call off the wedding.” 

You cursed yourself for crying over this again, but speaking about it out in the open really made you realize how badly Touya had manipulated you. From the very beginning of the relationship he tried to break you down and make you weak for him, and you let him. Your lawyer handed you some tissue from the box on the desk.

No more weakness. No more vulnerability. It was time to be strong; you had a child to raise and he needed his mother.

It was time to fight for what was rightfully owed to both of you.

“Coercion and signature under duress; oh, he’s done for. I’ll make some calls to get this in front of the judge as soon as possible. Don’t worry, Mrs. Todoroki, I’ll handle everything from here.”

—-

You left the law office with a massive weight lifted off of your heart. 

Takuya's private school was only a few minutes away if you took the interstate, so, after picking him up, you'd probably just go back to Fuyumi's house for the night.

"God, I hate this bend in the road, it makes me feel like I'm going to fall off into a ditch." You grimaced while holding the steering wheel carefully.

When you were almost around the corner, a black SUV flew past you at top speed and caused your car to lose control and spin in circles several times before crashing into oncoming traffic. 

—-

You had to have blacked out from the impact - were you dead? 

No, your hearing was still intact. You could hear something in the distance: footsteps.

Your head was bent at an odd angle and you could feel the blood dripping down your forehead.

"Well, would you look at my little broken doll, all bent out of shape. It's a miracle you aren't dead, huh? That was a nasty accident you had."

With you not being able to turn your neck to the sound of his voice, Touya had to step into your line of sight. He looked down into your eyes, his own turquoise ones shining with mirth. They seemed darker, more sinister.

Then it dawned on you. 

This wasn't Touya.

It was Dabi.

"W-w-what's wrong…with you…? You're…. you're insane…"

That was the final thing you said before slipping into unconsciousness.

—-

Dabi just watched your unmoving form with an evil grin plastered across his face. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a pack of cigarettes, and lit one.

With his free hand, he reached out to stroke your face while his eyes glowed.

"I know you want, me baby. I think I want you, too. I'm here to save you, girl. Come be in Shady's world.  I wanna grow together, let's let our love unfurl. You know you want me, baby. You know I want you, too. They call me Superman, I'm here to rescue you."

With a flick of his wrist, he threw the cigarette down and the entire car caught on fire.

—-

You want what you can't have

Ooo, girl, that's too damn bad

Don't touch what you can't grab

End up with two back hands

Girl you just blew your chance 

Don't mean to ruin your plans

—-

 911, what's your emergency?

"Yes, my wife has been in a terrible car accident! Her car caught on fire and she was trapped inside. I-I pulled her out, but she's unconscious and I think her neck might be broken!

Okay sir, I'm going to need you to get her to a safe location and wait for help to arrive. Avoid moving her anymore and try to keep her neck supported.

"O-okay."

—-

Three Months Later

You ended up with three severed vertebrae in your neck. The doctors still don't know how you didn't end up paralyzed or dead, but at this point it must have just been a miracle from God.

Touya brought you to the hospital under the guise of the distraught husband and no one seemed to suspect anything.

Except for Natsuo, Fuyumi, and your lawyers.

Your family was just grateful that you were alive and didn't think to question how the accident may have occurred, though Touya didn't get away completely scot-free.

Your lawyer was the number one accusatory figure when your divorce case went to court. He argued that Touya had been following you, tracking your phone, and was angry that you were finally filing for divorce from him.

That you were going to actually leave him this time.

Touya had an amazing defense lawyer that continued to play him up as the distraught husband; Touya knew what he was doing when he decided to stay at the scene of the accident and "help" you. Your other lawyers and Touya's went toe to toe in the courtroom for days.

— 

Caroline, Caroline

See Caroline, all the guys would say

She's mighty fine, mighty fine

But mighty fine only got you somewhere half the time 

And the other half either got you

Cussed out or coming up short

—-

The jury was at a deadlock.

It wasn't an easy fight. More days in the courtroom with you sitting there in a neck brace, your body bandaged beneath your clothes from the burns you sustained in the fire.

A miracle that you were even alive. 

Finally, after two weeks of court, Touya was convicted of attempted murder.

His defense lawyer tried to go for an insanity plea which was supported by him staying at the accident scene and bringing you to the hospital afterwards.

The prosecutor argued that Touya, though aware of his mental illness, never sought the proper help and continued to mentally and emotionally torture and abuse his wife.

These claims were supported by Natsuo and Fuyumi, who both agreed to testify on your behalf since you couldn't speak up for yourself due to spousal privilege. 

More deliberation, more waiting.

At last, there was a breakthrough.

The insanity plea fell through and Touya finally decided to just plead guilty.

—-

Regardless, we don't want to get involved with all them lawyers

And judges, just to hold grudges in the courtroom

I wanna see your support bra, not support you 

—-

He was called to the witness stand, where he told all the grueling, gritty details of the past five years of your marriage. As much as he didn't want to let you go, he just couldn't bring himself to drag this battle out any farther. After hearing his testimony, the jury found him guilty and he was sentenced to fifteen years to life in prison.

So now, here you are, sitting in front of the man that you once loved with all of your heart.

Dressed in an orange jumpsuit, wrists and ankles shackled, Touya regarded you with a downtrodden expression. 

"Y/n… I'm sorry for everything that I put you through. I just want you to know one thing: I'll always love you and my son." 

With a dry chuckle, you shook your head.

"I don't think you know the meaning of the word love, Touya." 

You pushed the divorce papers with your wedding rings situated on top of them towards him and nodded up at the guard standing behind him.

The elder man unlocked Touya's wrist cuffs so the inmate could sign his name where required. He didn't even read over it.

The shackles went back on immediately, and, with one last look, the guard escorted Touya out of the room and back to his cell. 

—-

The sunshine was bright on your face as you walked out of the prison. A funny thought crossed your mind and caused you to giggle out loud.

For years, you'd felt like a prisoner under Touya's watchful gaze.

Oh how the tables have turned.

—-

I know you like to think your shit don't stank 

But lean a little bit closer, see

Roses really smell like booo-booo-ooo

Yeah, roses really smell like booo-booo-ooo

—

a/n: i feel like i was starting to drag this out, so I just had to hurry up and end it 💀 i still think it came out pretty good though! i had to do a lot of research for the legal part and i still don't think it's all correct, but oh well! i ain't no damn lawyer/judge!😂 

[lees-chaotic-brain]

#6 crimson red for your event game plzzz

i didn't even think about this as a possibility and i'm kicking myself. when i saw this in my asks, i had to physically restrain myself from dropping all my drafts to work on it.

Nice to Meet You (Todoroki x Reader)

CW: Child abuse, physical abuse, injuries, bruising, slight spoilers for the anime, swearing, angst to fluff

Event Masterlist | Event Guide | BHNA Masterlist | Blog Navigation

"Get up."

Endeavor sneered down at his son, kicking him in the stomach again.

"You must surpass All Might."

Across the city, flowers inked themselves across your stomach, revealing your soulmate trait.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Shut the fuck up!"

Your mother hissed at you, dragging you by your arm down the stairs.

"Your siblings are trying to sleep."

Hysterical, you sobbed and thrashed trying to escape.

"Mommy I'm sorry please I'll be quiet please just let me go back to bed-"

"I don't believe you."

She threw you into the small basement closet and locked the door.

"I'll be back when you're ready to be quiet."

Blossoms curled across Todoroki's shoulder and arm.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"If I raise him now, it'll be bad-"

"Mommy?"

Todoroki asked, poking his head around the corner.

The kettle whistled.

Slowly turning, Rei Todoroki spotted her son, but all she could see was a bright turquoise eye.

Picking up the kettle, she slowly approached him.

"Mommy?"

He asked again, backing up, but not leaving.

He knew something was wrong, but despite the alarm bells ringing in his head he wanted to stay and help, because he loved her.

And he continued to love her even after the searing pain of the boiling water.

Even after she scarred him, he continued to love her, because if he didn't, he wouldn't have anyone to consider a parent.

For months a red flower remained inked over your left eye.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"Stay in your room until I come get you. How did I give birth to such an awful human being? How could you make your little brother cry. Stay here until I can stomach seeing you again."

Turning to leave, your mother was stopped when you flung your small body at her and clutched her leg.

"Mommy I'm so so sorry, I swear I'll be better! I didn't mean to make him cry! Please just give me another cha-"

You were cut off as your mother kicked you off her leg and stomped down on your chest before wordlessly turning and locking the door behind her.

You curled in on yourself, trying to remember how to breathe, your chest on fire.

A cluster of flowers in the shape of a slippered foot unfurled across Todoroki's sternum.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

For years and years, the only communication you had with your soulmate was flowers in the shape of bruises, the two of you sending them back and forth, back and forth.

Your soulmate trait made it so if either of you were injured, the other would have flowers inked across their body until the person who was injured healed.

The fates must have been in an ironic mood when they gave the two of you, two abused children living sad and loveless lives, that trait.

But at least it allowed you to recognize your soulmate immediately.

The first time you met Todoroki Shouto, you knew he was your soulmate. After all, the injury that caused his scar had been inked on your face for months, so of course you would recognize it.

After your first day at UA, you quietly asked if you could talk to him somewhere private.

Suspiciously he agreed, so the two of you walked to a park.

"I'm pretty sure you're my soulmate."

You blurted, wincing at how blunt you sounded.

He stared coldly at you.

"What makes you think that?"

You nervously explained your soulmate trait, and told him about the flower that had adorned your left eyes for several months when you were around six.

"Do you have a bruise on your right elbow?"

He asked impatiently.

"Right now-yes. Yeah I do."

He gave you a curt nod.

"Then we're probably soulmates. I have a flower on my right elbow right now."

You smiled at him shyly.

"Nice to meet you-"

He cut you off.

"I don't have time, or a need for a soulmate."

You stopped, not sure you heard him right.

"I don't need or want a soulmate. I have to work hard and surpass All Might. A relationship with you would just hold me back."

Tears crawled up your throat and burned the backs of your eyes.

"R-right! Of course! No I-I completely understand! I'll let you go on your way now. Sorry for wasting your time."

Turning you walked briskly away, not brave enough to look back or wait for a response.

Wiping your eyes on the sleeve of your blazer you took a deep breath.

It was okay. It made sense after all. He had seen all of the bruises and cuts and scrapes you worked so hard to hide from the public. Of course he wouldn't want you. It was obvious that your mother didn't, so why would he.

You were okay with this. You would have to be.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

"I would like to apologize and try to be friends."

You stared blankly at the dual-toned boy standing in front of you.

"...What?"

You asked, confused.

"Why."

After Todoroki had returned from his internship in Hosu, he had asked to meet you in the park where you talked the first time.

At first you had hesitated, but he seemed sincere, so you eventually agreed.

"After the Sports Festival, and my encounter with Stain, I realized that I've been a little..."

"Cold? Harsh? Unfeeling?"

You offered, a little peeved.

He winced.

"Yes...All of the above."

Then he squared his shoulders and bowed.

"I sincerely apologize for being so insensitive. I need to work some things out in myself before I'm ready to even consider a romantic relationship, however I would like to become friends with you and get to know you better."

You take a moment to process what he just said.

Hope bubbles in you, beautiful and bright. Maybe there was a future in which you could learn what it felt like to be loved.

"Stand up."

You said softly, fidgeting with your hair.

He straightened, looking into your eyes.

Was that...nervousness you detected?

"I forgive you. And...I would like to get to know you as well. So why don't we start over?"

He exhales in relief.

"That sounds perfect."

You smiled at him and introduced yourself.

He smiled back.

"It's nice to meet you. My name is Todoroki Shoto."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Okay I really really really want to make a part two of this where they finally become a couple. Should I? Thanks for requesting this anon! I had a lot of fun writing it!

<3 Lee

[mhathotfic]

Ha, exercising endorphins are crazy effective motivators apparently. Anyway, here's some yandere Dabi.

Warnings: yandere, homestock syndrome, codependency, implied abuse/a romanticized view of one's abuse, dubcon/noncon, implied breeding kink, cliffhanger ending

Pairing: Dabi (Touya Todoroki) x reader

Codependency, what a horrid drug that was.

Toxic and lethal, disgustingly sweet and impossible to give up. What a fucked way to say ‘I love you, I need you’, it's the only way they knew how to though.

And what a fucking mess that was too.

For her to love him, to need him as desperately as they needed air to live. A man who couldn't possibly know the meaning of, or reason why he loved her.

To love a monster who kept her under lock and key, who stole her from everything she once knew and loved.

What a mess.

She thinks she should hate him.

He's littered her flesh with marks, bruises and burns, evidence that he's touched her. Evidence that he's far too rough, too unstable to love as gently and sweetly as she deserves. She still runs her fingers along fresh marks as if they were trophies. Proof he loved her, just a touch too passionately.

She thinks she should run the next chance she gets, but she never takes it. What would she do if she left? He needs her to keep him sane, he's said so, told her over and over again. She needs to stay, she can't leave him!

She should say no, should hold her legs tightly together, but she couldn't help the way her body and heart betrayed her.

Couldn't help the stuttering gasps as long slender fingers entered her.

“Say it Doll, you know what I want to hear”

His voice is low with an almost pleading tone like he was the one begging for the pleasure of sweet release. Fingers moving painfully slow as he stared down at her withering form.

“Please T-Touya, l-love you!”

She pleads in response, desperate for him to believe her, that she wants to stay by him because she is just as in love with him.

His fingers speed up for a moment, hurtling her toward her orgasm only to stop abruptly. Pulling a whine from her and a confused look.

“Do you?”

He’s unreadable. Flat-toned and blank gaze as she struggled to sit up only to be pinned down by too-hot hands that threatened to burn her again.

“I do! I-I love you! I—”

“You'll make me a father then?”

Her eyes widened, he wants kids? He couldn't be a father, could he? She shouldn't let him, but, maybe a baby would be nice. Maybe it'll give her a real reason to stay maybe it'll make him better.

“P-please! Give me a baby!”

She pleads and he's quick to respond and push into her wait entrance.

Groaning at the warmth enveloping his cock and savoring it for a moment before starting a ruthless pace, only truly chasing his own pleasure, toying with her clit almost as if it was an afterthought.

[kelin-is-writing]

Something I’ve been wondering…how Dabi would react to someone in the LOV who’s very compassionate? At least with their comrades. Someone who wouldn’t allow him to push them away, who insists on helping take care of his burns, always there to listen. Will and has made sacrifices for the other members. Like, he can tell they genuinely care.

Would he fall in love with them? Become good friends with them? Or just find them annoying? Lmao

dabi x fem!reader

at the beginning he would be puzzled as to why is someone being so compassionate, at some point he was also suspicious about you because there was no way someone could care so much for others; the him of now wouldn’t, too much chances of being betrayed or backstabbed and he hates it, the only thought makes him hurl.

but after that night you went to him, after the fight with geten, and took care of his burns who had got worse after using his quirk for so much he got lost while staring at your worried and bitter expression, seeing how much it bothered you that he had no sense of measure when it came to himself. dabi tilted his head to the side and told you “why are you so upset? it happens all the time, it’s the norm now.”, he shrugged of with a lazy smirk and you glared up at him making him flinch imperceptibly, surprised by that reaction, not gonna lie he thought you would cry and whine but instead your reply was “i’m upset because i care, but it really pisses me off when you say it’s the norm with so much pride. so stupid, seriously.”, now... that rant said while trying to not cry or burst a vessel (or both), left him very speechless and stare at you with wide eyes and open mouth. noticing his reaction you froze on spot with a nervous smile on your face and blank eyes, you averted your gaze from his biting down on your bottom lip flustered.

realizing you spoke to him that way out of spontaneity, dabi turned away letting out an amused snort that he covered with the back of his free hand before turning to you grinning with a lifted eyebrow “guess i’ll be more careful from now on, we don’t want our princess here to cry do we?” you flushed looking at him with wide eyes and open mouth, then you scoffed ironically “that’s too bad, i don’t cry easily.”, he stared at you skeptical with a cocky smirk on his lips, which in return got him a little smack on the back of his hand and dabi let out a fake pained cry “easy there princess, i’m hurt here.”, that little shit started teasing making you roll your eyes and hold back a smile “sure, you big baby. wasn’t it the norm only few moments ago?”, the villain let out another amused snort while following you outside your room, to go back where the others were.

after that the two of you have genuinely become friends and he also has grown a very soft spot for you (sako and jin tease him lots about it too lmfao), you’re probably the closest person to him in there; at some point dabi has started to trust you so much that he has told you about his true identity and even talked to you about his plans, for as much as you were shocked at the beginning, you told him that you understood where he was coming from and why he was doing all that which left him speechless, once again. you were the only person who has managed to have him without words not once, but twice! and the way you told him that you’ll do your best to help him and stay by his side, but in return you want him to not put himself in danger more than the necessary so naturally and with that warm, tender and sincere smile of yours made him reply with a simple “sure... yeah...”, before you told him you were going to get something from your room and left him alone.

it was then that while looking in complete silence at the wall in front of him with wide eyes and hearing how hard his heart was thumping quickly inside his chest that dabi realized something: he was fucking in love with you.

[hail-ey-m]

ѕнσтσ тσ∂σяσкι—ƒαмιℓу ιѕѕυєѕ

Relationship: platonic

!!TW: Implied abuse (of any sort) by family member(s)!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Dear Y/n,

Hello. I hope you are well. 

I know times are rough right now and it seems like it will never get better. But I promise you it will. Trust me, I have my fair share of family issues. 

It's really sad to know you have them as well, I wouldn't wish them on anyone. 

I know I'm not the most comforting person, but I will try my hardest to help you. You are worth it and you are so special. 

You do not deserve this. Nobody does. You are not alone. You are not invalid in your feelings. You deserve the moon and stars and then some. Seeing as I cannot get you them, I will send you as many letters as needed for you to know your worth. And to know you are loved and appreciated.

I truly care about you, I am a blunt person so you can trust my words are true.

If your home situation is really bad, I advise you to tell someone. I know it can be hard, but if that's necessary for your safety then you need to do it. 

You will not be alone through any of this. I will always listen to any rants or crying sessions that you need to have. I know how important it is to have someone to confide in. Someone you can be raw around. So I will be that person for you. 

I hope this letter gives you some comfort. I love you.

Your friend,

Shoto ♡

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

© 2023 Shiggy | All Rights Reserved | No portion of this work may be used or adapted in any way without the author's explicit consent.

[devilherself666]

CHAPTER 12! (TODOBAKUDEKU X READER! MAFIA AU!)

The sun came through the window and I sighed. I heard a knock on the door and groaned. “Too early.” I huffed and they huffed. “Well I can just go home.” A girl growled and I didn't hear her voice. “Rain?” I asked tiredly. She turned the door knob. “Yeah, I heard everything. I am here to explain.” Rain says and I looked at her. “Thank you.” I sighed as I sat up, and looked at her as she sat down. Her hair was beautiful white with purple tips, her wings were like angel wings, her horns made me wanna show mine, but never could. She also has wolf ears and tail that matches her hair color, her power is better than anyones ever seen.

“Tell me everything you know?” I asked and she nodded. “Y/n, I am so sorry that happened. He didn’t used to be that way.” She sighed and she looked down. “In high school he would act like a prev because his parents was against gays, and that he was one. He had to hide it very well. No one knew that but me, because he was my best friend. He got bullied and he couldn’t change it because that was better than the beatings he would get from his parents. It all changed him.” She sighed and I looked at her. “That doesn’t explain why he killed my brother and kidnapped me.” I huffed, crossing my arms. “You are a few years younger than us, right? So your brother would be our age right?” She asked. “Yeah I am nineteen.” I sighed and she nodded. “He is twenty-four, the same age.” She stopped and looked at me. “As my brother.” I looked at her in shock. “My brother..” I looked at her in shock. “Yeah, I believe your brother bullied him in school the most for being gay.” Rain sighed and I started to tear up and then shook it off. “No way..” I looked at her and saw honestly in them. “My brother is a horrible person..but still don’t understand why he took me..” I sighed and she sighed. “He might be a murder but he isn’t a monster.” She leaned back on the bed next to me. “He killed the only family you had left…he took you in to protect you from the world, but he did it the wrong way. He should have let you live your life normally.” She sighed and I looked at her. “I am not normal, never have been. Never will be.” I looked at her. “I am like you.” Still looking at her and she looks back at me. “Y/n, we all have powers of some sort, the reason we made the mafias to use them where the cops can’t. We shouldn’t be scared to show our turn powers.” She looked at me. “Todoroki, fire and ice.” She smiled. “Bakugo, explosions.” She sighed. “Deku?” I asked and she shivered. “Deku has the most powerful power any of us can have. I can’t tell you. He would have too.” She sighed and I nodded. “I don’t show off, never really wanted to.” I sighed as I looked away. I got out of bed and looked at her. “What should I do?” I asked her. She looked at me and smiled. “You might not like this Idea.” She sighed. I looked at her as I picked out some clothes. “What is it?” I asked. “Talk to him. Ask him the questions yourself, because he would know more about what he did than me.” She sighs. She did have a point but a lot can go wrong.. “What if he kills me because I know his secret..” I asked and she laughed. “He took you in y/n, he is not going to kill you after all these years just because of one stupid secret..” She chuckled and I looked at her dumbfounded. “He got his ass beat to a pulp because he did not want me to know…” I explained and she looked at me. “That is a good point..” She stopped and thought for a second. “I still don’t think he would kill you, but to be safe when he wakes up, I will talk to him.” She smiled at me and I nodded. “Thank you.” I sighed as I grabbed my clothes. “I am going to get a shower. Thank you for all your help.” I smiled and she nodded. “Anytime.” She said as she got up and hugged me. She walked out, I sighed as I walked to the bathroom and turned the shower on and started to strip out of my clothes and get in the shower, letting the hot water hit my back. I wash my hair out. I sighed as I let the water hit my skin more and leaned my head back in relaxation. I washed my body and turned the water off and stepped out. I looked at my clothes and sighed. I looked at myself in the mirror. Who do I see? Who is she? Cause I don’t know anymore. I sighed as I got dressed and brushed my hair and teeth. I walked out the bathroom and she was gone. I shrugged and walked down stairs and saw the black haired man there. His face wasn’t like before, it was full of hope and despair. Maybe a tint of happiness. Why? I have no idea and I honestly don’t think I should find out. He didn’t trust me with my brother. Why would he trust me with what is making him happy?

I looked at him as I walked to the kitchen, I wasn’t paying attention and ran into someone. “Ow!” I groaned. I looked up and saw the scar over the nose and the freckles. Ignoring him isn’t the best when you stay in the same house I guess. “Y/n?” He asked and looked down at me. I huffed. “What?” I asked as I got water from the fridge. “You have been avoiding me.” He growled. I rolled my eyes. “Well duh! You aren’t gonna take my first like it was nothing!” I yelled and growled walking away leaving him there dumbfounded. Doesn’t he not remember it? I walked to the nurses office and saw the man I thought was my brother on the table. I wanted to slap him. I wanted to hurt him. Instead I walked away and breathed hard to stop the tears. Until I felt arms around me. “Let it out.” A soft voice spoke and I knew it was Todoroki. I could never forget the warmth he gives me. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I cried in his arms. I wanted someone to save me from this nightmare. In our line of work, we don’t have heroes, never have. Never will. Even if we did, would they take the time out of their day for something silly like this? Probably not. I have never felt worth saving and I am not. I don’t even use my power. I have one, yes. Despite the Mafia and the quirks, people would think heroes would be born, but after the commission ruined everything. Everyone fought against it, U.A was shut down years ago and everything went south. About a year after that Endeavor was arrested and the world was angry.

They lost all hope of being safe, but us? We were never safe. In this line of work your family is always on the line. Unless you are Deku, then you put their families lives on the line. In this line of work, there isn’t a good or bad person. Just a stupid or street smart. You can never let your guard down. I did. I am the stupid one. Not only did I let my brother die, I am standing here in a boy's arms crying my eyes out. I sighed as I looked at him slowly. “Why?” I asked. He looked down at me. “Why what?” He asked and I sighed as he wiped my tears with his thumb looking me in the eyes. “Why are you trying to save me?” I asked and he smiled slightly at me, my heart skipped a beat. He smiled at me. “You are worth saving Y/n, Ever since I met you. You have had my heart. You not only wanted to know me but you also wanted to save me. Am I right?” He asked and my mouth dropped open. “How did you know?” I asked. He chuckled lightly and petted my hair down as his other warm arm was around my waist. “The jokes, the calls, the help you have given us. Let us save you the same way you saved us.” He smiled and kissed my head and I looked at him confused. “I haven’t done anything.” I said and he smiled. “You have. Deku has been looking for Mintea for a long time and you happened to find him.” He smiled and my jaw dropped. “What is going to happen to him?” I asked and Todoroki shrugged. “He will get what he deserves.” He huffed and I smiled. “Can I smack him when the day comes?” I asked and Todoroki laughed. “Of course, love.” He pulled me closer for a hug and kissed the top of my head. “We all love you Y/n, you have shown us trust and what it means to be happy in this line of work.” He smiled and I looked at him. “Woah, no you got me all wrong. I hate this line of work. Look at me, my parents are dead, my brother gone. I am only nineteen Todoroki. I have nothing together. I am still in college for whatever I don’t even remember anymore because I just wanted a normal life. I had to kill people and steal their wallets just to pay for a normal life. Do you not hear how fucked up that is?” I sighed and he looked down at me.

I felt disappointed, I am not sure if it was because of what I said or how I felt when I said it. “Y/n.” He sighed. “If you don’t want to go to college then drop out, they are already dead, going to school won’t bring them back. You might be young but you signed up for this life when you slit the first man's throat for his money, Y/n. I had to turn my emotions off just to get through life. I don’t want that for you. Just try to learn not to care so much.” He sighed and I looked at him. “You are welcome to be a part of our mafia, your brother would be proud to see you working alongside the number one mafia leader, no?” He asked and I thought for a moment. I looked at him and nodded. “He would, that is all he has ever wanted.” I sighed out and Todoroki nodded. “Good.” He smiled at me. “Let's go.” He said. “Where?” I asked. “Deku and Bakugo want to see you.” He smirked and I gulped. Oh god.

<<< >>>

Master-list

[poly-pan-0118]

Between Blue Flames and Red Wings (WIP on Ao3) You don't remember much about the eldest Todoroki. The summer you visited as a teen, you hung with the younger siblings and Keigo. The only times you caught a glimpse of Touya is when he would leave early in the mornings. Now, 10 years later you've returned to the Todoroki residence to finish up a deal from your passing mother's business. You never dreamt you'd be falling in love not only once, but maybe even twice

Am I starting another story of our beautiful blue-eyed man even though I'm still working on Ceasefire? Yes. Because that's what us fic writers do. Anyway, I was trying to sleep the other night and was listening some Japanese flute music ambience, and this is the outcome. Needless to say, my mind didn't shut off that night. I even thought of a Toga x reader story. That's for another time though. Oh, and there will be naughty bits to come.

Ch.1

With a bow, the servants left you waiting in the foyer of the massive Todoroki residence. You leisurely walked down the hall glancing over the pictures that hung on the wall. You leaned in close to what was a picture of all the Todoroki siblings. The picture must have been taken right after your visit because they look exactly how you remembered. It's been about ten years since you were last here with your mother. She'd often take you with her on business trips. 

In the front, sitting with his legs crossed, was Shouto. The young boy was so full of energy. He'd run up to anybody with a big smile on his face and greet them. Standing behind him was Fuyumi, the only girl out of the bunch. Poor thing, you giggled to yourself. You both got along well, instantly bonding over music and boys. Next to her, standing with his hand on Shouto's shoulder, was Natsuo. He was a bit reserved but could be outgoing at times. You remembered how he was the one to make sure your movie night sessions with the siblings didn't run too late and didn't get too rowdy. He was quite the charmer too.

Standing off to the side with a look on his face saying he'd rather be someplace else, was the eldest Todoroki. Touya. You never really got to meet him. You'd watch him leave the house from the guest bedroom window at early hours of the morning, only to hear him returning late in the night. His bedroom was directly across the hall from yours and one late night, you could have sworn that you heard him sniffing.

You don’t know why but you’ve grown very curious about him. One particular morning as you watched him walking away from the building as he always did, he had turned back to glance over his home, as if he was taking a look for one last time, that's when he caught you staring at him from the window. The rising sun caused an eerie glow as his bright blue eyes peered up at you. You quickly gasped, and like the naive girl you were, ducked below the windowsill to hide. Moments later and feeling like an idiot, you peeked out to find him gone. 

Next to Touya in the picture was the goofball you knew as Keigo. Though not an actual member of the family by blood, Mr. Todoroki had adopted Keigo and treated him like his own son. Besides Fuyumi, Keigo was the only other person you hung out with on a regular basis. You quickly grew close to each other. You smiled as memories came back causing your heart to flutter. Mrs. Todoroki had a beautiful garden in the backyard next to a koi pond. You and Keigo sat feeding the fish when he leaned over to pick a flower. You watched him twirl the stem between his fingers as he debated what to do next. Without a word he stuck the flower in your hair right behind your ear. " Now you look even more pretty," Keigo said with a wide grin. Nobody has made you blush so hard since then. 

"Y/N" 

You turned your head towards the voice and saw the matriarch of the Todoroki family.

“Mrs. Todoroki” you said with a bow. 

“Oh, please Y/N, you are like family here.” she said with a bright smile. It was as if time stopped for her. She didn’t look like she had aged one bit. “No need to be formal” she added while pulling you into a big hug. “Enji is in a big meeting right now so it might be a bit before he gets to see you” she explained. You both caught up with each other’s lives as she leisurely guided you out to the back courtyard. Even though she seemed to be happy you couldn’t help but to feel she was hiding pain behind her smiles. She said she would gather the other’s as she left you to sit at the bench next to the Koi Pond, still thriving with beautiful fish. You were lost in your thoughts, aimlessly feeding the fish when you felt the presence of someone else staring at you. You looked up to see a tall lanky figure walking over to sit at the other end of the bench. He never once looked away from the pond. It was as if you weren’t there. 

“Hello,” you said, trying to be polite. The man turned his head and you were met with turquoise eyes looking back at you. “Touya?” you asked, “Is…is that you?” It had to be. There was no mistaking those eyes. The same eyes that caught you watching him leave the house that morning. It was the last time you saw him. Touya’s eye’s furrowed as he tried to remember who you were. You looked familiar but he couldn’t place it. You noticed it looked like he had some bad scarring on his neck that went around to his ears. You tried not to stare; you meant no disrespect. Turning your head, you also caught a glimpse of scars on his arms. He saw you looking and he quickly pulled his sleeves down covering them. “I’m sorry” you apologized, “I didn’t mean-” 

“Y/N” a cheerful voice called out to you. “Oh, my gods it can’t be” 

“Kei?” you yelled running to the man with outstretched arms. His embrace was warm and inviting. You stepped back to get a good look at him. Your eyes widened at the sight. 

“Wow, Keigo you,” you found yourself at a loss for words, “You’ve grown up” you commented sheepishly. Grown up was an understatement. He was about a foot taller than you now. His shoulders were broad and muscular. His blonde hair was a bit longer than before, but it was nicely groomed. 

“I can say the same about you” he said rubbing the back of his neck, “You. You look beautiful Y/N” There you go blushing again, just like all those years ago. Keigo surprised you by grabbing your hand and pulling you close to him. He quickly pulled a flower from behind his back and placed it behind your ear. “Now you are even more beautiful” His voice was deep and there was something unspoken hanging off the end of that sentence. Touya watched from the bench as you let Keigo fly in and swoon you.  Of course she’d fall for him. They all do. He let out a ‘Tsk’ loud enough for you to hear and got up to leave   

“Touya wait” you called for him. He stopped in his tracks. Peering back, he watched as you approached him. Why does she want to talk to me? 

“I make a bunch of herbal remedies at home and I’m sure I can um…well” you pulled at the hem of your sleeves as you carefully chose your words, “I can make a salve that could help with those burns.” You stood there in silence as Touya looked at you bewildered. 

“Why would you want to help me?” He didn’t mean for it to sound so bitter. He truly didn't understand why you would do this for him. It’s not like you were friends. He never hung out with you before. All those nights you enjoyed games and movies with his siblings, he wasn’t there. He wasn’t allowed. He had to do what his father told him. Shaking his head, he turned to leave but stopped when you once again called out his name. This time he didn’t turn to look back at you, but you spoke anyway.

“If you change your mind, I'll be staying in my old guest bedroom. You can come by anytime.” 

                                                     ***

Touya laid in bed trying to find a comfortable position which was damn near impossible with a burn wound that covered nearly half of his body. He's had so many skin grafts he lost count. He just wanted the pain to go away but he refused to take any pain medication. Touya thought about your offer to help but couldn't stop himself from wondering if this was some cruel joke being played on him. Were you going to laugh and slam the door in his face? He still didn't get why you were being so nice. Touya stood up and threw on some loose-fitting sweatpants along with a tank top. He grimaced as he looked at his reflection in the mirror. He hated showing so much skin but you would need to see it to apply the salve. He threw on a flannel shirt leaving it unbuttoned, and with a deep breath he headed for your bedroom. 

You were standing at the foot of your bed trying to decide on what outfit to where the next day. Keigo had invited you to the Cherry Blossom 🌸 festival. You weren't sure if this was a date or if you were going just as friends but you did know you were super excited about going. Suddenly you heard a soft tap at the door. You looked over at the clock to see it was nearly one in the morning. You wondered if something was wrong. The other siblings didn't arrive at home till later that night, so you wondered if it was maybe Fuyumi wanting to say hello. You opened the door to find Touya standing there, his eyes darting back and forth between yours as if he was second guessing coming to your door. 

"Touya, is everything alright?" you asked. There you were, caring again. 

"You said I could stop by" he said with a nervous shake to his voice. "If it's too late I can always-" 

"No, don't go. Please come in" you said, grabbing his hand to pull him inside your room. Touya swallowed hard. He's never held a girl's hand. He saw himself as pathetic, wanting more warmth from yours. It seemed small compared to his. “You can sit here.” You told him, guiding him to the edge of the bed. “I’m going to gather some supplies I’ll need.” You seemed excited as you rummaged through your bags you had just tossed in the closet. Touya took this time to look around the room. It looked empty but you just got here so he didn’t expect much. He then looked on the bed and saw the dresses you had picked out. Clearly you were trying to decide which one to wear. One dress was black with teal geraniums the other was a white dress with red scarlets. His eyes moved farther up the bed and he damn near choked on air. There, sprawled out nice and neat was a pair of black lace panties. He was a grown man, but he felt like he was a fourteen-year-old, pubescent teenage boy at that moment when he couldn't help but reach over and pick them up grinning. 

“Ahem” you cleared your throat. Touya’s eyes darted over to you, the panty still dangling off his index finger. 

"I, uh" Touya stuttered. 

"Do you mind?”  you said, snatching the panties from his hand. Touya couldn't stop staring at your face watching the pink hue cover your cheeks. He thought it was the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. You pulled the little desk chair to sit in front of him. Touya noticed in your hand you held a little tin can with what he presumed was the salve that you made. You silently looked at the man and pinched your eyebrows. Touya was lost gazing into your eyes when you cleared your throat again.

"Oh um..." Touya said. He nervously took the flannel shirt off. His face flushed as he shyly looked away from you. He was too scared to see the disgust on your face. He took a deep breath as he felt you lift his arm and start to apply the ointment. He’s never had anyone other than doctors touch him. 

“Touya, look at me please.” Your voice was soft and caring. It stirred something deep inside him. Touya slowly turned his head and met your gaze. They held a gentleness he couldn't describe. He could get drunk on staring into those beautiful orbs. “I need you to take your tank top off too.” You saw he was apprehensive about this. “Only if you’re comfortable that is” you added. Touya shook his head and removed the tank. He looked at you and expected to see your eyes bulge or perhaps even scream, but you just proceeded to apply more of the salve. He couldn't feel much on the nerve damaged parts of his skin, but the parts he could feel, gods he wanted more of your touch. You watched Touya’s face relax and close his eyes as you gently applied the salve. Moving in slow motions, careful not to apply too much pressure. Touya let out a small hum and you felt your face flush and your entire body tingle. Though he didn't look like he was built 'big', he had a pretty muscular upper body. A part of you felt like you were taking advantage of him as your fingers rubbed along his pecs. You asked him if you could apply some of the salve to the scarring under his chin and down his neck and received a nod. You rubbed in the ointment on his neck, slowly moving along his jawline. Touya opened his eyes to meet yours staring back at him. He thought he saw you shiver, and this caused him to give you a little smirk. He never thought he could cause a reaction like that from somebody. Especially someone as beautiful as you. Your body tingled the way he looked at you and you felt your heart beating faster. Staring into his turquoise eyes you lost all sensibility. Cupping his cheek, you ran your thumb along his chin, glancing between his lips and eyes. 

Oh shit, oh shit. Touya thought. Were you wanting to kiss? Are you waiting for him to make the move? Touya felt himself slightly move under his sweats. 

“I’m not interrupting anything am I?” a voice spoke from the door that was left cracked open. It was Keigo. He had dropped by, of course he did. Fucking cockblocker. 

pt 3 https://at.tumblr.com/poly-pan-weeb0118/bbfrw-pt-3-touya-found-you-standing-next-to-the/w484z7t93plh

[jomamaofficial]

An Empty Vessel pt.1 (Dabi x Preganant!Reader Dark Angst)

A/N: Hehe, hello my lovely toes. MY FANFIC WENT THROUGH THE LAST ROUND OF BETA READING SO HAHA, I CAN PUBLISH IT NOW. I urge you all to read the TWs and CWs because I may have gone a bit overboard hehe. As always, my Ask Box is open for any requests or just a conversation. I would love to give back to our little community here. Please remember to take care of yourselves, and enjoy. As always, I would love to see your thoughts in the comments :). TW: Pregnancy, vague desire for a forced Abortion, Domestic Abuse, Strangulation, Burning, mentions of Bleeding from a finger cut (from cooking probably). CW's: Heavy SFW, SPOILER: Season 6, Dabi’s backstory, Swearing, Mentions of Sexual acts (Birth Control, Pull-out method; nothing graphic has been described), Intimate acts (kissing, making out), Mentions of Bleeding from a finger cut (reader was cooking). Masterlist Edit: Part 2 😩😩. Edit: Part 3. Word Count: 3537 Summary: You were Dabi’s stress release; he would long for the night to come, but refused to take things ‘too far’. He’d wait for you in secret, but he wouldn’t dare show you any affection outside of the designated odd hours. How you longed to change it. How you longed to confess your love for a man who never used your name. So when you found out you were 3 months pregnant, you hoped your unborn baby would bring you closer to your unrequited love.

——————————————————————————————————

Averting your eyes from the scarred man sat across the table from you, you took a deep breath, clenching your jaw. You sat there, alone with your thoughts, loud enough to drown your boss’ voice.

Your thumb rubbed circles on your wrist, comforting the sting that was lingering underneath. Your hand craved the warmth of another; so when it received a burn instead, the hand mistook that pain for love. Because he gave you so much warmth that your weak skin gave way until it blistered, glowing a pretty red. All you wanted was a hand to hold, a hand that would grasp yours and caress the skin atop; so when he groped your supple skin, digging his nails inside your thigh, leaving tiny crescents that decorated the soft surface, your body mistook the pain for love. Because he held you so tightly. Because he didn’t want to let go. 

Those were the tender moments where he gave you more than you asked for.

And you hated that they were enough to make you clutch onto a thin rope of hope. A hope that you hated because it was destined for disappointment. 

Even though his eyes held spite and his mouth a snarl as he slapped your hand away, stalking ahead, you only clutched harder onto that decaying rope. 

His simple acts led to a thousand thoughts, which led to a thousand headaches, which left you wondering why you felt so deeply for a man who wouldn’t even hold your hand in public. 

It was just heated gazes; his eyes, half-lidded, boring into yours, finding that special spot deep in your core which always sent hot, velvety haze onto the surface. 

He was the only person in this shithole that made you feel alive. 

When you first walked into the hideout, you never expected to feel so strongly towards a stranger sprawled in the corner, hands in his pockets with a cigarette lazily placed in his mouth, shoulders hunched and eyes lifeless.

At first, you rolled your eyes and scrunched your nose at the wisps of smoke that loitered around his presence. 

Just another faceless person in the crowd, you told yourself; his sole purpose was to dip in and out of your life without a second thought. 

And then as the days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months, you added a second purpose for him: to always have a cigarette when you needed it. 

And you began craving cigarettes all the time.

You convinced yourself you felt nothing towards the scarred man who waltzed into your life. He was just your nicotine supplier and that was the only thing that drew you to him. It was always the cigarettes, never the person. 

But after you found yourself on the roof, puffing your stress away with his body pressed against yours, his corruption seeping into your pure bloodstream, it was clear that you were addicted to him. Not the nicotine that he filtered through his sinful body.

Your entire life shaped itself to lead that of a villain. A villain who worked mindlessly. A villain that had no goals or dreams of their own. Just an underling that satisfied their boss. 

It was a methodical and vapid life and it left a bitter taste in your mouth. A bitter taste that sweetened when you felt his lips on yours. 

Your personal life and your work life were blending with each other, mixing until you had no sense of which was which. 

He was disgusting. He had no respect. 

With his poorly box-dyed black hair framing his hollow cheeks, and his stupid piercings which completed his empty face. They glistened around his leering eyes, which followed you in the comfort of your own thoughts; he should be disgusting. Because his grafts were also disgusting– a deep shade of purple which creased around the corners of his eyes when he flashed you a subtle smirk. They had darker lesions, with staples pressed against them holding him together. And sometimes, they wept in blood, slipping down his pale skin– his disgusting dead skin– so thickly. 

Everything about him was disgusting. But his sore grafts enhanced his winter skin, cold like a gentle snowflake, a delicate crystal. And his hair was an abyss, sucking you in, coaxing you to find beauty in his pretty eyes that held stories you wished to find out as you lay your head in his lap, his scarred hands brushing through your hair. 

So when his knee was grinding against you, you helplessly rutted back against it to feel closer to the man who nipped your lips, the taste of ash draining into your mouth. There was a certain hunger behind his touch that threatened to burst. 

And you just wanted to feed him. 

His hands slid down to your thighs, groping the bare flesh. He pinched them and kneaded them within his own hands, picking at the flesh to press and bruise them. 

Your mouth opened in a silent cry and he trailed down to your neck, peppering messy kisses on your skin. Your chest heaved up and down as you lowered your eyes to desperately find his. But they were hidden, grounded to your neck, inspecting the marks he left on you. 

But something was wrong. 

There wasn’t any love, or compassion, or care. There was only possessiveness. 

Possessiveness that made you shiver and shrink. Possessiveness that stripped you bare and vulnerable to his prying cerulean eyes. His clouded gaze scanned every piece of untouched flesh your body had to offer. He ignored your loving eyes. He just wanted to see the marks you would conceal the next morning.

A long deliberate finger made its way down your neck, grazing past the suckled bruises. 

One finger turned into a full grasp, a grasp that lingered on your chest. A visceral shiver tore through your delusion, and suddenly that grasp lingered for too long.

Something was wrong. 

“Stop it!”, you screamed, arm quivering over the place he touched you. His blue eyes remained frozen, devoid of any expression. 

You pushed his hovering body away from yourself, watching his glare settle on you. 

It was the first time he looked at you today. 

Your head leaned against the cold wall, pressing on it in a failed attempt to stop the dull throb spreading within. The coolness soothed the ghostly thoughts that stung your body with an icy warning. 

Dabi turned his head towards the sliver of twilight peeking out from behind the curtains. His tongue pressed against his cheek, plucking his cigarette he tucked behind his pierced ears. He placed it in between his pierced lips, inhaling as he lit the cigarette with his flames. 

His eyes relaxed, closing as he exhaled a stream of smoke into your face. 

He tapped the shaft of the cigarette, embers of tobacco burning through the thin white sheets you lazily spread.

“You want me to stop”. 

It was the first time he directly spoke to you today. 

“I’m so sorry Dabi, I-” 

“You think I’m so fucking disgusting, don’t ya?” he spat, his eyes burning through his hooded lids. 

“Dabi just listen to me, that’s not what it is, I just-” 

He put his cigarette out on your thigh, the heat pricking through the layers of your skin until it incinerated your nerves, leaving a phantom itch on the burn.

He branded a perfect circular shape near your hip.

“Ya hate it that I’m tainting your perfect little skin? Your fucking perfect little skin that ya spend hours scrubbin’ and oilin’ like a dumb bimbo?” 

“Dabi, please-”

“No, you fuckin’ listen to me”, he stressed, grabbing your cheeks with his bony fingers. “Lil’ preppy bitches like you, with pretty doe eyes, have somethin’ for big bad guys like me, right? That’s why you joined this league, didn’t ya, dollface? To find some broken fucks like me to fix?”

He tightened his grip on you, leaning closer to your face. 

“I did a background check on ya, dollface. Quirkless lil’ smart bitch. Up to your ‘Masters’? So why the fuck did you join this league? You had a good life, dollface. So why’d you drag your naive lil’ face into my world? Because you don’t have a single. Bad. Bone. In. Your. Body”. 

He punctuated each of those last words with a squeeze, your teeth clenching to prevent him from ripping through your cheeks. 

“You wanted to fix me, didn’t ya? Prance around me looking sweet as honey until I dropped my shitty habits and licked the ground that you walked on”.

Your eyes began to water at the pressure and the truthful accusations. 

“Yeah, don’t think that I didn’t catch on to ya’ hand sneaking up on me late at night, like some creep. You think I didn’t realise ya’ stupid lovey dovey eyes staring at me across the room? ‘Cause I did dollface, and it fuckin’ disgusted me”. 

He let go of your face with a push.

“You want me to be your boyfriend, don’t ya?”, he asked, closing the distance between you two, holding your waist taut against his disfigured chest. “Hold ya’ hand and peck ya on those pouty lil’ lips?” 

His voice lowered an octave as he looked down into your glistening wide eyes. You could smell the fresh smoke ensnaring your mind. 

“But why would you wanna date someone as disgusting as me, dollface? I make you scream, don't I? Dabi, the big bad wolf?” 

His flaming eyes dimmed, like fire without oxygen. 

“So tell me, doll. What made you scream like that? Was it my fucked up face? Or was it my slimy hands dirtying your pretty lil’ skin?” 

To the untrained ear, he almost sounded sincere. With his deep voice rumbling from his warm chest, your eyes flickered down to his lips. 

“I love you, Dabi”. 

His eyebrows raised for a split second before his hands pinched the top of his nose bridge. 

“I fuckin’ knew it”. 

You could feel his chest heave as he let out a deep sigh. 

“Doll…” 

“I love you so much, Dabi”, you breathed out, closing the distance between your lips by another inch. 

He felt a sharp ache in the middle of his brows. 

“You’re so beautiful to me”, you whispered, noses touching as you traced the deep shades of the graft on his abdomen. You felt his muscles tensing underneath your distinct touch, your eyes subtly smiling at his reaction. 

His reaction towards your touch. 

“Every part of you is so delicate and pretty”, you admired, looking up at the man with twinkling eyes, pupils dilated and full.

“Don’t want to change it, Dabi. Don’t want to change you”. 

Your voice was so soft. Airy and sweet. A tone so unfamiliar for the raven man who was observing the way the moonlight shyly casted a glow on your face. 

“Don’t lie to me doll…” 

“I’m not lying”. 

You tore away from his eyes, choosing to focus on the inconspicuous indents scratched into your walls. Your hands, frail, shook as your heart and gut imposed on you to finally tell him. Your deepest thoughts that plagued your mind for the longest week. 

“I pushed you away because I’m tired of just being a warm body for those cold winter nights… I’m tired of being a dirty secret, Dabi. I love you, but I’m so tired of breaking myself just to give you pieces that you’ll deny the next morning”. 

His faint press against your stomach made you breathe a heavy gust of air in. 

“I can’t keep on breaking myself. Or else I’ll have nothing to give her”. 

You guided his hand over your stomach, tears dropping on his forearm. 

Dabi felt his heart spike, shallow breaths escaping his tightening chest. 

“You told me you were on birth control,” he said, cutting through the silence, clenching his fist. 

“I wasn’t, Dabi”, your breath hitched as you choked on your fear.

“I wasn’t. I told you so many times, asked you so many times to pull out, but you didn’t”. 

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. 

He was silent.

“I found out a week ago. And I’ve been trying to tell you, Dabi… I tried to tell you so many times, but you’d ignore me, Dabi”, you trailed off, body seeking comfort. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling yourself towards him to rest your face in the nook of his neck. 

“Toga was playing around with my blood the day I cut my fingers. And she told me… she told me that she could detect a new taste in my blood. At first I thought it was the cigarettes but when she told me she couldn’t transform into my body because there was something blocking her… I asked Kurogiri, and he took me to Ujiko Sensei, and- um”, you gulped, your throat feeling drier. “And I’m three months pregnant, Dabi”. 

Your drumming heart settled as you felt his hands close around your waist.

“I was so wrong about ya doll”, he mumbled as he nuzzled his face in the nook of your neck, mimicking your position.

Your heart basked in his grasp, your nails gently scraping down his back. 

“I love you, Dabi…” 

“I was so fucking wrong about ya…” he said, pulling back from your tight embrace. 

He pushed a loose strand of hair behind your ears, his tilted head scanning your face. His right hand travelled up your shoulder, to your cheek. You basked in his touch, cool drops gliding his slender thumb across the plane of your cheek.

“You’re not naive, Y/N”. 

That was the first time he said your name. 

“You know exactly what you’re doing”. 

Your mind was lost in the bare contact you finally received, his words slurred for you. 

The war was over. He finally understood you. 

“I shoulda known doll… a smart girl like you would wanna fix me in other ways. By turning me into your brat’s daddy”. 

Your eyes opened suddenly, your brows ruffling as they met his gaze. 

“Dabi-”

“Shut your mouth, doll. It’s only for your benefit”. 

You expected his piercing grip. You expected his piercing voice. 

“What d’ya think woulda happened, doll? What d’ya want to happen?” 

You cowered under his view; your heart was walking on eggshells, unable to bear the constant change. 

“I asked you a fuckin’ question, didn’t I? Now use that mouth to answer me before I burn it off”. 

You sniffled, your stomach trembling as you tried to speak in full sentences. 

“Dabi, we couldn’t continue this if we had her-” 

“Couldn't continue what? Use your words,” he interjected, cold as steel. 

You felt your head spinning, empty stomach feeling heavy.  

“Dabi. We can’t expose our child to this-”

He pulled on your hair, the pressure on your scalp forcing you to pull on his wrists, struggling to pry his hands away.

“Did you not fucking hear me? Use your words”. 

“Dabi, please, stop- please”, you pleaded, pulling his wrist with greater force, “please Dabi. I- we can’t expose our baby to the league and these operations, where we go out, half expecting to be killed by the end of it. We can’t tell her we’re villains, we can never let her know, and we can’t be villains anymore Dabi! Just please, I told you- just please let me go”. 

He let your hair go when you struggled the most, causing you to stumble back into the wall behind you, intensifying the dull thud into something far more painful. 

“And that’s how ya thought you’d fix me, am I right dollface? Get ya’self knocked up with my brat, and drag me outta this?” 

He pushed his face into yours, grabbing your hair to pull you closer. 

“Becoming a daddy didn’t stop my old man from being a villain, dollface”. 

He turned you around, twisting your limbs to his liking until you succumbed, on your knees with your back against his chest. He lifted himself up to his knees, pulling you up by your aching hair, which was twisted in his left hand. 

His right hand rose from your waist to your chest. He attached his lips to your cold neck, leaving heated kisses all across the skin. 

“Dabi…” you mewled, your body temperature increasing as it battled between two conflicting emotions: you wanted to pull away. Your arm was tensed, longing to strike as his hands claimed your body. You curled into your torso, hiding as much as you can before the man behind you pulled you again, arching your back to his liking. Your hands clutched the thin fabric, your mind too tired to make up its mind. Because his pushing and pulling, his kissing and biting, just the feeling of his skin on your skin ignited such an urge to submit to his ownership. Your hips pushed out to feel his body, your sweaty skin brushing against his rough jeans to feel the electric connection. Your neck exposed itself to his messy kisses, your subconsciousness praying and begging for them to brush past your collarbone. 

His right hand rose. As his hand reached your neck to press the side, his lips reached your ear lobe, nibbling on the flesh.

“You know my daddy don’t ya? Pro Hero Endevour? Enji Todoroki, Japan’s number one hero", he drawled out his syllables, spite laced in every inch.

He was a hero to the world but you know what he was to me dollface? A fuckin’ villain to me. Ruined my fuckin’ life so much that it was better when he ignored me. When he ignored his oldest son. When he threw me away for his newest prized possession,” he growled, a low vibration tearing through the chest he rested you on. 

“I coulda been one of those heroes dollface…” his voice cracked. 

“I wanted to be a hero so fuckin’ bad. If he asked my scrawny ass to do a hundred pushups, I did a hundred fifty. If he asked me to run five miles everyday, I’d run ten. What didn’t I do, doll? You name it. I did everything in the book because all I wanted was to be his first brat to surpass him. He told me I’d surpass him. Told me my flames were stronger than his.”

He was quiet.

“Of course they were. But you know what happened one day, doll?” You felt something warm creep down your shoulder.

“One day, at the doctor’s, I found out that my mommy’s quirk manifested in my regulation system.” He let out a breathy, broken sound. 

“You’re smart. You know what that means, don't ya, doll?” 

You felt another thick drop slide down the valley of your chest. It was red. 

“My mommy's quirk was ice, doll. And you know what you need to tolerate an icy quirk? A hotter body. And you know what that bitch gave me, doll? A hotter body so no heat could ever escape it”. His left hand grabbed yours, lifting it up to his jaw, his graft leathery and sticky. 

“You know why I have these, doll? It’s because that woman didn’t let my daddy’s quirk work properly. Her useless quirk took over my ol' man's regulation system. So the doctor told me, if I tried to surpass him, I’d burn myself alive”. 

He rejoiced in the sobs he ripped from your throat, his hands shaking as they bled in between the fine lesions. 

“He told me I couldn’t train anymore. That I couldn’t be a hero. So he knocked her up again and again because I was so disposable to him. As soon as his second brat was born, he didn’t give a flyin’ fuck about me. He knew he could get rid of me whenever he wanted. And you know what the saddest part is, dollface? I knew that too. I knew from the age of eight that I was gonna get replaced by my lil’ baby brother when he popped outta that useless bitch. He kept us away from that brat, because we were failures. And we could never taint the perfect, youngest Todoroki with our digusting failure”. 

Your lips quivered with his, your hearts beating together. 

“I was so disposable that he didn’t even bother looking for his eldest son’s dead body after he burned himself to death. So you know what this tells me? It tells me that you’re a fucking idiot. Every woman I’ve known has been a fucking idiot. Because if my old man abused me and ripped me apart until I destroyed myself to prove myself worthy as his son”, he licked the shell of your ear, pressing harder on your throat until he heard your ugly, shallow gasps for air, “and he's still the world’s greatest hero? What makes ya think that I’d become a righteous hero for your fucking brat?” 

Your feeble attempt to breathe was music to his ears, a sonorous sound that twirled around in the empty room. 

“I love how no one’s here. I love how empty this room is, dollface”. 

The undertone of your lips matched his vibrant flames, your eyes feeling heavier and heavier. 

“I want you to be like this room, doll”. 

Empty. 

“I want to turn you into an empty vessel”.

——————————————————————————————————

Keep a look out for Part 2, my angst-loving toes. If you would like me to add you to the taglist, please comment or message me :). Edit: Part 3.

[tk5150]

Many Different Kinds of LOVE

What if you were held in captivity for a whole year? having to endure rape, torture, and mental abuse. You escaped the grasp of your captor only to find out he had a double life.

🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤️🤍

One of a MONSTER and the other of a LOVER

🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤️🤍

I know that a Yandere has only one lover but, I think a yandere can have different kinds of love for different people.

🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤️🤍

He finds out you escaped and is now looking for you to pay the price for ever escaping him.

🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤🤍❤️🤍

[35c4p15t]

Powerless (Yandere!Bully x Reader)

E.g. Katsuki Bakugo, Dabi/Touya Todoroki (BNHA), Gojo Satoru (JJK)

CW: yandere, referenced bullying, verbal abuse, pet names (doll, love, sweetheart), nonconsensual kissing and dry-humping

NSFW- MDNI

Arrogance first compelled him to approach you, entranced by your demeanor, before immaturity pushed him to insult and assault you, angered by your initial indifference towards him. Interactions thereafter snowballed as his intrigue evolved into infatuation, which soured into possessiveness, until his role in your life was that of an abusive, toxic, unpredictable bully. Despite wishing things were better, he'd play any role if it meant hogging your attention and scaring others away from you.

Cornering you was concerningly easy; even after all he'd put you through, your efforts to avoid him were pitifully easy to overcome. “Miss me, sweetheart?" Panic was written all over your face as you turned to look at him. Jolting away from him, about to run, he catches your arm, securing you next to him. Where you should be. “Where you goin', doll?" Squirming in his grip, you manage to plead, “Away from you. Please, let me go." It hurts, that you're always so desperate to get away from him. “You wound me, love," he smirks, masking his actual feelings, as usual. “I jus' wanna spend some time with my favourite person, don't you?" He tugged you closer to him, pressing his toned chest against your back, wrapping his arms around your front, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder. “I am your favourite person, right, sweetheart?" His breath tickled your ear uncomfortably, causing you to wiggle in his grasp. “Careful, love, you're gonna make me excited." You cease movement immediately, eyes brimming with tears. He notices, sighing in disappointment. “C'mon, doll, lemme take you somewhere nice, yeah?"

Confused, but powerless to resist, he forces you into his car. “P-please, I don't want to go anywhere… with you." He stares at you, overwhelmed: enraged by your disinclination, frustrated at his own distreatment of you, and desperate to keep you with him. Consequently, he shoves you into the back of his car, climbing in after you, closing the door behind him before crawling over you, distressing you as you attempted to shuffle away.

Undeterred, high on adrenaline, and too elated that you were finally beneath him to think clearly, he grabs your face- unintentionally harsh in his haste- and you whimper, immediately flailing under him in distress, becoming more frantic while he lowered his face, his nose brushing against yours as he planted his lips on yours. Frenzied, you started thrashing, prompting him to drop his body, weighing you down, and briefly lift his mouth to murmur in a husky, confident tone, “Don't bother, doll, you can't stop me." “N-no! Please, I'll go wherever you want, b-but, please don't do this!" “Oh, but you've upset me now, love. Make it up to me, yeah? Just relax, sweetheart." Returning to kissing you, smirking when you stopped writhing, instead laying limp, tears flowing down heated cheeks. His free hand snaked down your body, finding and squeezing your ass while he pushed his tongue into your mouth, and his leg forced itself between your thighs to begin grinding against you. Feeling a hardness pressing on your thigh reignited your anxiety, however, struggling under him simply pleased him, groaning hotly into your mouth. Pressing his leg harder against you, the hand holding you face in place dug warningly into your cheeks before sliding down to your chest, groping- selfishly, so hard you flinched in pain- his breathing quickening, almost heavily panting on your face, withdrawing his mouth from yours momentarily to mutter near nonsense, “You're mine, I own you, sweetheart. No-one else loves you, doll, you're nothin' without me."

Despite hearing his words numerous times since he started harassing you, it still stung. Dejected, you turned your head, unable to face your tormentor, now also molester. You felt sick. Swept up in his own pleasure, he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, mouth open, licking, kissing, biting at the sensitive skin there. His hips accelerated, hand roaming your body, grabbing, squeezing, and rubbing as he pleased, until he buried his teeth possessively into your neck, sighing through his teeth, jerking against you a few more times before he stilled, panting in your ear for a moment. Eyes screwed shut- burning from crying- and stomach aching with disgust, you felt more shame, repulsion, and powerless than ever. “Least you're not completely useless, huh, doll?"

[http-tokki]

ʚ⁺˖ ↠ blue

ᰔ pairings: dabi/touya todoroki x fem!reader ᰔ content/tags: mha spoilers, childhood pov, abusive childhoods, childhood crush, blood, allusions to self harm/suicide, explicit language, smut, kinda not really, its smutty talk, angst, allusions to s/a, power dynamics, time jump to when touya is like 26, creative liberties have been taken with the original story, set in the century 2400 ᰔ wc: 10.5k ᰔ a/n: so there is a bit of a weird timeline with this one. instead of touya dying at 13, I've made it he dies at 16 and the subsequent events are a lil delayed, in the manga he is 24 atm but here i have him as 26, please suspend your disbelief for a sec cause the amount of work ive put into this so it makes sense, i almost went crazy

March 10th 2460 Touya: aged nine You: aged eight (and three-quarters)

Breakfast is at five, lunch at twelve, and dinner at seven.

The clock hands tick over the first five graduations and onto the sixth, meaning it is six minutes past seven and dinner is late.

Lateness is not tolerated by the Todoroki clan.

No reason, whether it be big or small, would be accepted nor understood by the head of the family, and punishment for being tardy ranged from groundings to lectures and in the most severe cases, a beating. However, those parameters do not extend to said head, who you think to be more akin to that of a prison warden than a father.

You watch the housekeeper slide the last of the food onto the table and take another look at the clock.

7:08.

The table had been set, food diligently prepared and presented, plates piled high with greens and dripping meat, three different kinds of fish, an array of soups, and other liquid foods. Mrs Todoroki often had trouble eating, so instead opted for warm broths and hot teas, and they were all going cold while you waited for Mr Todoroki to come in from Touya’s nightly training. Saliva coats your tongue as you breathe in the heavenly scents wafting from the mountains of food, your stomach growling in protest at not being filled with the delicious smells.

Ten minutes pass and just before the eleventh has a chance to be observed, the sliding doors to the dining room whoosh open. With the ease and casualness of someone who is above the law of the household, Enji Todoroki strolls in followed closely behind by the eldest sibling.

Touya trails behind his father, movements sluggish and slow, his frail body slumped in exhaustion and what you would only later realise as terror. You can almost see the muck that weighs on his body, dripping off sharp bones in big flat globs of swamp green mud, seeping into the reeds of the tatami mats below. Fresh wounds litter his arms, blooms of dark red blood pock the sterile bandages that were hastily wrapped around his limbs. The stark white began at his wrists and climbed up and up his arms until they disappeared beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. You follow Touya, eyes lingering on his wounds as he sits down opposite you.

“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.” 

Fuyumi’s mouth pulls into a frown for a quick second before her attention moves to the food before her.

You nod, attention shifting from the boy across the table to the plate that had been prepared just for you. A small helping of meat and fish paired with a big serving of rice and vegetables, the nanny even going as far as to put it into a divider plate as though you were a toddler, but you thanked her regardless, smiling up at the haggard-looking woman as she nodded politely and moved onto tending to baby Shouto. The food only holds your attention for so long before you glance back up at Touya, watching as he cuts into his steak with the precision of a man far beyond his years. Each move slow and calculated; every shift of his arms or turn of his head deliberate and purposeful, small actions to avoid raising awareness of his person. Come to think of it, all the children, save for Shouto, moved like that. As if they were in constant apologetic states just for breathing, existing, and with their father you understand why, but it doesn’t stop you from staring at the boy before you.

"Stop looking. He doesn't like it when you stare." Fuyumi whispers, smacking her knee against yours.

"But it looks like it hurts." You whisper back, unable to look away from the red splotches on the white bandages.

You want to ask if he is okay. If he needs a doctor and who did that to him? Was it a bully at school? How was the school not getting involved if he was being bullied this bad?

"Fuyumi," Touya 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. Heat rises to your cheeks, stumbling out an apology, and vowing to never look at him again.

No one had ever looked at you like that. With such hatred and malice, you didn’t even know existed.

"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 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 Natsuo starts to talk about his day, telling his mom and the housekeepers all about the latest games and toys at school, the newest edition of a card game you like captivates you and your thoughts are swept away from the strange boy across from you. 

Dinner ended as it always did.

Mr. Todoroki called the housekeeper over to deal with the mess and children as he retired to his office and Mrs Todoroki took her evening walk around the grounds of the estate. You can’t stay the night despite it being a Friday, you’re never allowed to stay the night. Fuyumi had stayed at yours plenty of times, your parents never saying no to another friend but never you at hers. You thanked both her parents and waved bye to her brother before the youngest housekeeper walked you home. That’s how every Friday night ended.

That routine had become a staple in your life, going on two years, before there was a change to the way of things.

------

July 1st 2362 Touya: aged eleven You: aged ten

The shift was subtle and 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 felt. That’s how you would describe Touya’s presence in your life. From the arctic interactions each Friday night at the dinner table to someone you would call a friend.

The first thaw of the ice wall that had formed around your friend’s brother, was an accident.

Knee deep in the heat of summer, you had rushed over after summer school, swimmers in your backpack and a dream of jumping into the fresh cold heaven that was the local pool. You had come looking for Fuyumi, hell-bent on getting your poor friend out of the stuffy old house and somewhere she could have fun without the risk of her dad making her or her siblings cry.

You had come to hate Mr Todoroki.

He hadn’t done anything to you personally to deserve the contempt you held towards your friend's dad but you had heard enough from Fuyumi. She had told you all the times he made her mom cry. How there would be arguing and then the sounds of breaking plates followed by her mom’s cries. Mrs. Todoroki never said anything was wrong, never alluded to anything other than a mild argument but there had to be something more, right? Adults didn’t cry over nothing!

“ ‘Yumi, let's go to the pool!” you call down the hall. “I’ll buy ice cream this time.”

The housekeeper had let you in, instructing that your friend was in her room finishing up some school work but after you checked her room and found no sign of her, you went looking.

That is how you found Touya.

Walking into the bathroom under the assumption you would find Feyumi, you are greeted with a situation you are not old enough to understand the severity of.

Touya slouched on the bathroom floor, surrounded by bloodied towels, unspooled bandages, and uncapped ointment tubes. A piece of gauze caught between his teeth as he attempts to bandage his bleeding hand.

He shouts at you to leave, his command broken as he hiccups around the sobs falling from him. Scorched skin covering the majority of his arms, fingers red and blistering as they shake.

That image sears into your brain. Imprinting itself onto your eyelids so that each time you fall asleep, you see Touya; broken and bloody.

There isn’t much you remember from that afternoon, only flashes and stills that live in the recesses of your mind.

The feel of the cold tiles on your exposed legs as you knelt before the once terrifying older boy who had never had a single nice thing to say to you.

The smell of salt and metal of his fresh blood.

The sound of Touya’s cries as you peeled incorrectly placed bandages off raw and exposed skin.

The acidic taste of bile in the back of your throat upon first laying eyes on the scene before you.

It had been too much for little you to comprehend so you just forgot most of it. Thrown it into a locked drawer in your mind and lost the key.

That was the beginning of the thaw, a gruesome and bloody beginning to a friendship that spanned years and ended just as horribly.

------

September 23rd 2463 Touya: aged twelve You: aged eleven

“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. You sit down next to him, popcorn bucket jiggling as the couch sinks under your frame.

The beginning animation of Spirited Away starts and the familiar tune wraps around you like a warm hug. This was the movie you liked to watch whenever you felt sad, and you noticed Touya was a little sadder than normal these days so you offered to have a movie night. His siblings had all said yes but upon discovering that the movie was one from decades ago, backed out. So with just the two of you left, you sit in silence and watch as the beautiful world comes to life.

It’s a nice moment between the two of you, sharing something so personal with someone you would have never considered a friend and here the two of you were, watching a movie. Like friends!

“I’m gonna call you Chihiro cause all she does is cry and that’s all you do too,” Touya announces as the credits begin to roll.

“I do not!” you retort, slapping his arm lightly. “I cry a normal amount for a girl my age!”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Chihiro.”

------

February 14th 2464 Touya: aged thirteen You: aged twelve

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 it seemed as if it did not have plans to let go of it anytime soon. Everyone in Tokyo bundled up against the frost that coated the wind but it wasn’t the cold that had your hands trembling as you gripped a single rose.

It was Valentine's Day and you were about to ask Touya to be yours.

The nerves that had built in your stomach had taken over your extremities. It was as if your entire body was a live wire that every so often touched an exposed pipe and jolted.

In the two years since the bathroom incident, you had grown closer to the oldest Todoroki, sparking a friendship that consisted of more than smiles and shy hellos across the dinner table. Phone calls and text messages were the daily, walking to school and home together was the new norm, all things that one would consider friendly but there was a part within your heart that was growing to like Touya a little more than a friend. You knew it was a crush, you weren’t a little kid anymore, but you also knew that he was unattainable for many reasons. One was that he was a sibling of a close friend and the other being that he was not someone who thought about life that way. There was no room for crushes in Touya’s world. There was only hero work. How to become a hero and then how to become the number one hero.

You had heard this speech a million times. His plans to surpass his father in the rank of heroes and become the ultimate symbol of peace. Heroes had no time for girlfriends, only villains.

But you had no plans of becoming a hero so there was no real reason you shouldn’t try, right? Your mom had bought you the flower this morning, picking up on the crush that you had developed on your friend and very excitedly pushed you to give Touya a gift.  

“What do I do with this?” Touya asks, confused as he takes the flower from your hands.

You had stopped halfway through the walk home and turned to your friend, eyes wide with fear, and shoved the bloom into his hands. Originally the plan was to hand it to him as you said goodbye for the afternoon but you were swiftly running out of ways to regulate your breathing to counteract the anxiety wreaking havoc in your stomach.

“It's for you” you answer, eyes trained on your shoes. 

“Me?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you asking me to be your valentine?” There is 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.”  

You hear footsteps, watching Touya’s shoes move closer to yours. “Just admit, you like me.” He teases. 

“I do not!” balling your fists, you stomp your foot. “I already told you why I got them now shut up before I take them back!” 

Another pause. 

“Thank you,” Touya says gently. “Even if it's just cause you felt bad for me” 

Spring had come early for Touya Todoroki.

------

June 28th 2466 Touya: aged fifteen You: aged fourteen

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. The need within him had turned insatiable. Morphing from a dream that would one day be achieved with dedication and hard work into something that was turning your best friend into a ravenous beast.

“You’re not listening to me. I need you to listen to me.” Touya shouts as you walk home together.

“I am. You’re just not making sense.” You roll your eyes at your friend, turning your attention away from the raving lunatic walking beside you.

“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.” You huff and turn around, starting on your way home without your friend.

You don’t hear his footsteps follow you.

His apology comes in a text later that night.

I'm sorry, Chihiro. Can we still be friends?

------

October 19th 2466 Touya: aged fifteen You: aged fourteen “Can you promise me something?”  Touya’s words become mist in the mid-autumn night.

“Depends.”

You turn to face your friend, feeling the dew-soaked grass squish beneath your shoulders. Hidden behind the garden wall, lost within the shrubbery the two of you hid 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, 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. “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 was 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, scooting closer across the grass and grab his cold hand, interlocking your fingers together, you squeeze and swear an oath. “I promise, I won’t ever forget you.”

November 24th 2367 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged fifteen

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 is a little awkward. Walking so close together but not actually touching aside from the occasional brush of fingers that sent 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 than 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 than how you acted now? Plus, kissing and hand-holding. God, you want to kiss him.

You both stop at the gate of your house. The lights in the living room are on which means your parents are up waiting for you.

Touya drops your backpack at your feet.

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," you stammer, slipping 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" You nod, affirming your 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 for a hug but not close enough that it was weird. 

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.

“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 your body had flood into your cheeks. “Good luck. Hope your dad doesn't kill you!” 

------

November 30th 2467 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged fifteen

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.

------

January 4th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

You think about Touya Todoroki often.

How your best friend had been killed in some freak accident. How despite his father rushing into the flames to save his son, had come out unscathed yet all that was found was Touya’s jaw bone. It didn’t make sense and you had driven yourself crazy with theories surrounding his death. It was an accident, they had all said. Even if it was an accident, Enji Todoroki was not innocent.

You think about the kind of man Touya could have been if he had lived, what kind of hero he would have become. How he would save the day then turn and smile at his adoring fans, blue eyes blazing bright with pride. You often think about his eyes, remembering how they softened whenever he would smile at you, brighten as you offered half of whatever snack bar you had that day. 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?" you whisper as you stare at the strange man.

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, you took the risk of walking down the alley; what you weren’t hoping for was to bump into your best friend’s dead brother. There was no way it was him, maybe he was 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.

His hand reaches out to grab your arm, nails digging into your exposed flesh. You want to wince, to cringe away from him but something within you is telling you to hold your ground. The stranger pulls you closer, all false bravado leaving you as you realise what’s about to happen. Your body tenses, hands uselessly curling into fists at your side.

"Who the fuck are you?" a harsh whisper cuts through the quiet patter of rain.

The hand your arm tightens when you take too long to respond. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.” Your answer whooshes from you, all air leaving your body in a single sentence.

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. This had to be some sort of joke, right? You were not about to be assaulted by a guy who had Touya’s eyes, there was no way the universe was that cruel.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to I’m sorry, please.” Hot tears roll over your cheeks, your bottom lip quivering as you fight the frown wanting to form. You were not above begging despite knowing it wouldn’t do any good, if there was some way to get out of this situation alive and unscathed, you were going to try it. 

“Hey,” the stranger calls to you, shaking you gently. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

Great, he’s playing mind games now. You’ve seen enough true crime to know that there are no good people left in the world, especially the ones who lurk in alleyways.

A cold hand reaches out and grips your chin, lifting your face to his. The gesture is intimate, gentle and familiar.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I'm sorry, I-“You’re sobbing now. 

“Look at me” he interrupts, fingers tightening on your cheeks.

He repeats his order when your gaze doesn’t move.

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,” his voice is soft.

The hand that was on your arm now cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that coat your cheeks. His skin is rough and warm, but there is a bite of something cold on his palm. He holds you with such tenderness you feel a tug at your heart not for any feelings towards the stranger but because you had never been held like this before. That a complete stranger who was probably a crazy psycho villain was holding you with the care you hold a baby animal with.

“I need you to stop crying and answer me, can you do that?” he asks, nodding as his thumb continues to brush over your cheek. 

You nod, taking in a shaky breath. 

“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 just finished work and this is shortcut.” you don’t have time to come up with an elaborate lie. “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” You feel the tears welling up again. 

“Well, he’s not me.” He sighs, removing his hands from your face. You kind of miss the warmth they had. “I’m sorry you lost someone, but I don’t think accusing strangers of being dead people is a good idea.”

You nod wordlessly, too stunned at his shift in tone to formulate a response. The man reaches up for the hood of your raincoat, pulling it over your head tight to shield you from the rain. 

“I need one more thing from you okay?” 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 he is praising you has your heart 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 arms raised in a farewell. You watch as he turns the corner and only when he is gone do you let yourself breathe. ------

March 6th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

"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."

Your friend is right and has been every other time you have brought up the strange man from the alley and you can tell by the way he shoves the textbooks into his backpack that his patience is running thin. 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. Unfortunately for him, he was the first person you called upon meeting the stranger (Knowing Fuyumi would have had a heart attack upon hearing about your encounter). Initially, Natsuo was concerned, terrified for your physical and mental wellbeing 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 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."

------

May 17th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

You feel stupid.

Really fucking stupid.

So monumentally stupid with every single decision that has led you to this moment. Led you to stand before a thick metal door, the sliding peephole pulled back to allow the man guarding the entry a view as to who knocked like some girl scout. The box of cookies in your hands does nothing to evade that image.

“I have a meeting with…Dabi?” you look down at your phone, squinting at the blurry name on your screen then back to the man guarding whatever was in that building. “I think.”

You have no idea if you’re being set up. If the person you had been corresponding with was the infamous villain or just some poser but what you have deduced from your months long investigation is that you had in fact met Dabi in that alleyway so whether it was him or not you were about to meet, he is your only lead into finally figuring out what exactly happened to Touya

“You think?” You hear the smirk in his voice at the uncertainty in yours. “I think you might have the wrong door, sweetheart.”

It is the right door. The creepy encrypted message you received gave you this very location with the exact time to arrive. This was a giant risk on your behalf. Trusting strangers on the internet to give you accurate information as opposed to being lured into a trap for human trafficking but the need to know more about the mysterious man you had met weeks ago was gnawing at your insides so much that you were more need than person. The hunt had begun with a very broad search into Touya’s death and the records surrounding the tragedy before very quickly veering into villain records and archives. There was a small lead with a hospital admittance for an unidentified burn victim in a hospital a prefecture over from Tokyo but that went cold when the body of the patient was identified two weeks post mortem through dental records. You had all but given up when a weird email in your spam box caught your eye. It was from an unknown sender, hence the immediate spam allocation, and had nothing but a link to a chat site. There is no amount in the universe to quantify the stupidity in your subsequent actions from clicking the link to chatting with the stranger on the other side of the screen but they had the information you wanted and so you followed their instructions to a bookstore, then a bar and then finally an internet café where you logged into the already open discord chat that had the location of the final meeting point. You quickly snapped a picture of the chat before it disappeared and three days later, here you stand in a deserted alleyway surrounded by boarded-up doors and graffitied walls.

“This is the address I was given.” You explain, holding up the phone so the guy can get a look at the message. “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.”

Your mouth sets in a frown and despite wanting to look intimidating and rough, you know you look like a child pouting in an attempt to get more cake. “Please, I’ll give you some cookies if you want.” A shitty bribe but a bribe nonetheless.

The man snorts. “You really have cookies in that box?”

“Yes. Fresh and homemade made and some of them can be yours if you let me in” You wiggle the box.

There is a beat of silence then the sliding peephole slams shut.

Fuck.

You close your eyes, disappointed in the fact you had come so far only to be shut down by some guy behind a door. Maybe this was the universe stepping in and preventing you from getting killed or trafficked. Maybe you should let this whole thing go.

Just as the last of your hope leaves you, you hear the click of a lock and then the door is sliding open. The man who you had been speaking to not ten seconds ago stands before you, muscular tattooed arms crossed over his equally muscular chest.

“Choc chip?” he asks, eyes trained on the box in your hand.

You nod.

“Fine, come in” The man tilts his head in a gesture to welcome you in. “Leave some on the counter.”  

You nod again, your pace quick as you enter the building beyond the door.

The hallway is dim and damp, filled with cardboard and wooden crates stacked along the walls. The ceilings are high with exposed piping and hanging fluorescent bars that would have once lit up the entire walkway. Light bleeds beneath the many doors that line the hall, muted sounds following the flashes of colour that leak from the closed-off rooms. 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. “Hello?” you call out and take a step back, dried leaves crunching beneath your feet.

Fuck. Fuck.

You turn on your heels, heading for the door you had stepped through a few seconds ago but are stopped by a familiar voice.

“Did you really bring me cookies?”

You whirl, fingers tightening on the box between them. “Yes, but if you don’t want them, it’s okay. I just thought that I might-“

You watch as the man you had met weeks before steps into the dim light. Breath catches in your throat as you are met with the face of the villain that has filled your screen for weeks now.

Dabi.

He is taller than you remember. Towering a full foot over you, his intimidating figure looms in the dim light. Your eyes follow the line of his scarred skin over his cheeks, down his neck, over exposed collarbones before disappearing beneath the neck of his shirt. Heat fills your face at your wandering gaze and you’re thankful for the lack of lighting.

“Who says I don’t want cookies?” Dabi smirks, taking a step out of the shadows.

“No one.” your answer is a broken stammer, earning a bemused snicker from your companion.

You take in a breath and square your shoulders. “I just don’t want to accuse you of anything.” A better delivery.

The villain hums and takes another step closer. “So, it is you then.”

Another foot closer, and when you don’t back away, one more. His steps are careful; small and reserved as if trying not to frighten you anymore than you already are. The routine is repeated, a hesitant dance of pushing proximity limits until he is less than a foot away. Blue eyes narrowed on you, brows furrowed in intrigue. Same blue as before. Same blue eyes as Touya.

His apprehension and fascination leave as quickly as it came, and you're left staring at a man who looks as if he wants nothing more to do with you.

“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?”

The thought of lying did cross your mind on your way over but you had already jumped through enough loops to get this meeting, you aren’t in the mood to play games and risk his irritation.

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

Dabi tilts his head to the side the way an animal does to hear better. There is something so unsettling about the he moves, something not entirely human.

“Talk about what, angel?” his eyes blaze blue as he notices the twitch in your lips at the byname. “About the league? About you? Me?”

“About you.”

Heat pools in your stomach at his affectionate pet name, embarrassment following suit. You should not be letting him get to you the way he is, but it could also be a good bargaining chip. If you couldn’t afford his services monetarily, physical payment would not be entirely painful.

“We can talk about me but first, I want to ask you something.”

“Sure.” The false confidence you had summoned before has not left you yet.

The insincerity of your act is palpable, but Dabi lets you go, lets you take this small win.

“How long did it take you to find me?” his question is genuine, interested in just how exclusive access to him is.

An exhausted sigh leaves your body at the mention of the time that you had put into locating him and his lips quirk at the gesture.

“Four months and 2 weeks, I think.”

An irrationally long time but there are questions that demanding answers.

“So, you’ve spent almost five months thinking about me?” he taunts.

Me. The emphasis on the pronoun doesn’t evade you but you don’t have time to dwell on his excitement.

“Yes. And now I’ve answered two of your questions, can I ask one?”

Dabi shrugs and reaches for the box in your hands. Rough fingers brush against the back of your hands, goosebumps skittering over your skin at the contact. He takes his time opening the small white box, bottom lip pulled between his teeth in contemplation at the contents before him and after a full minute of silent deliberation, does he pick one. Slender unscarred fingers dig into the box, fishing out the biggest and most chocolate filled treat.

“Did you make these?” Dabi holds up the choc chip cookie, inspecting the biscuit in the low light.

“That’s three questions now.” you announce as the unofficial score keeper. “and yes, I made them this morning.”

The making of the desserts had been a coping mechanism on your part. Too nervous to sit still but not so overstimulated you were willing to exercise to shake off the extra energy, you turned to an activity you hadn’t touched since university. The recipe was one you know by heart, having it gifted to you by your mother on your eighteenth birthday, you were free to think as your body worked through the motions. However, the purpose behind you baking said sweets was not entirely self-soothing.

Dabi nods and bites into the biscuit.

“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 me, 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 but 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 chuckle but the lack of recognition from your companion causes you to pocket the purse.

Dabi’s stare is unamused as he chews.

“Why is this guy so important to you?” he asks around a mouthful of chocolate. “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, nails digging into your palm before you relax and answer.

“Because he died in a really weird way, and I need to know if there was anything I could have done to prevent it.”

“That’s a stupid reason.” Dabi spits out.

A frown tugs at your mouth.

“He’s dead. Who cares how he died and whether you could stop it or not.” He continues, rolling his eyes as your pout forms. “What’s the real reason you’re looking for answers? There’s something else.”

“It’s stupid.” You mutter, suddenly embarrassed at the reasoning for your investigation.

“Ohh, it can’t be that stupid if you’ve put all this effort in.” Dabi croons. “Come on, angel. You’ve gotta tell me why if I’m gonna do all this work looking for him.”

You take in a deep breath in hopes of smothering the tears that are threatening to spill but the lump sticking in your throat has other plans.

“Because he was my best friend and I loved him and I never got to say goodbye.” You sniff, nose starting to run as the tears build. “Please.”

Dabi stares at you.

“You made these?” the question comes out of left field.

You blink at the villain, unaware as to where he is taking the conversation but answer him nonetheless.

“Yes, I did. It’s stupid I know, bringing cookies as a bargaining chip but I-“

“Your mom’s cookies are better.”  Dabi interrupts.

My what? My mom?

“What?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry but your mom’s cookies will always be the best.”

Your jaw slackens as you stare at the man before you.

“My mother?”

“Yes. Your mom made better cookies and it’s not for lack of trying, yours are really good but they’ll never beat your moms.”

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?

“Aww, don’t get upset Chihiro. I'm just being honest.”

The nickname rattles your soul.

Touya.

Before you can even 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. Arms wrap around your waist as you collapse against the villain. Your knees break the fall, bones screaming out in pain as they slam into the concrete, and you brace for further impact but it never comes. There is a moment when you truly believe you are going to be killed, incinerated into nothing but ash for your assault but nothing happens and so you are left with no other choice but to get answers from the man under you. There is no clear choice as to why you chose violence, some primal part within you acting out of instinct. There isn’t enough time for you brain to catch up or even process that information that had been thrown at you. . In most high pressure situations, you would retreat inwards and carefully unpack each and every detail of the occurrence like you were a kid under a Christmas tree; not a package left untouched, but you don’t have that luxury in the current moment.

Hot fat tears stream down your face as you grip Dabi’s cheeks in your hand, his skin rough beneath your fingers.

“You’ve been alive this whole time?” you cry, fingers digging into the gaunt flesh and when no answer comes you ask again, the palm of your hand connecting6 with his cheek in a sharp slap. “You left me to think you were dead, but you’ve been alive?”

Below you, the villain stares up in disbelief. Eyes wide at the mad woman above him, screeching like a banshee let loose. His thin shirt is scrunched tightly between your fingers, pulling the material taunt against his body. You have no control over your actions, feral and bowing to your emotions. You watch as your hand slips to his neck, pushing at the base of his throat.

Finger wraps around your wrist, pulling your weight off his windpipe and then the world shifts.

You are flipped over as easily as a leaf in the wind. Now on your back, the dust that had been kicked up from the floor sticks in your lungs and you cough as you cry.

Dabi hovers above you. Legs on either side of your hips, hands pinning yours above your head preventing you from causing any more harm to him. You try to kick, to wrench your hands from his grasp, throw him off you with your hips but nothing. You fight back against your opponent, teeth gnashing as you desperately try to find purchase on skin but he has done this too many times before to leave anything to chance. All points of access to an injury on his behalf are sealed up, held high above you and there is nothing you can do to reach.

Your cries are loud and deep and aching. Air leaves you with each heaving sob and you fear you may never breathe again. Spit and tears mix in a hot mess across your cheeks and you would wipe away the mess if not for your hands held above.

“I hate you so much.” You seethe, teeth clenched as you breathe in. “I fucking hate you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You hear Dabi apologising over and over again.

A hand brushes over your forehead, then your cheeks, then your jaw.

“You left me.” You wail. “You left me there, all alone.”

Your chest heaves, air being gulped down as if you had been held underwater to the point of drowning and it felt like you had been. You had been held under for so many years and now you were getting a moment of air, and your brain could not process it. 

You take a few more breaths, calming the blood roaring in your ears and pounding heart and finally when your breathing returns to a semi-acceptable rhythm, do you finally acknowledge the man above you.

Dabi glides his palm along your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone before resting his fingers along the side of your neck.

“I’m so sorry.”

A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

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?” your voice is hoarse from crying.

“If I answer, you need to promise to keep it a secret,” he whispers, free hand curling in the ends of your hair that lay splayed out beneath you.

“Promise.” You nod and hold out your pinkie the way you did so many times as children.

Touya interlocks his pinkie with yours.

Fresh tears prick at your eyes.

“Hi, Touya,” you whisper.

“Hi.” He whispers back, hand pulling away from yours to glide over your jaw and slot into the hair at the nape of your neck. “I missed you.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull his body against yours in a bone-crushing hug. A laugh leaves your friend as he loops his arm around the back of your neck, holding you close. You pull back, face now centimetres from him and wait for him to make the next move. Your body follows his breaths, following his lead just the way you would follow him all those years ago. A lump forms in your throat and you know you look insane; hair mused, cheeks flushed and soaked in tears, eyes still red and crying.

Touya closes the distance, mouth hovering above yours and you think he is going to kiss you but nothing comes.

“Did you really love me?”

A sob leaves you involuntarily.

“I loved you so much, you have no idea.” The truth spills from you. “I love you so much.”

At the confession, Touya kisses you.

His mouth is soft on yours in the gentlest of kisses, almost as if he was afraid that you would fall apart if he pushed any harder. You part your lips to test the waters and when Touya follows your lead opening his mouth against yours, you grip onto the shirt bunched up around his waist. He lets you lead, lets you take control and set the pace for the first few minutes. Following your moves and pressure against your body to not push you any more than you already had been but as you whimper beneath him, his demeanour shifts.

Fingers tighten in your hair and the hand that had been holding himself up comes to rest on your waist, slipping beneath your body to pull you closer to him. Your mouth opens wider beneath his and you feel his tongue trace your bottom lip before flicking into your mouth. Menthol and chocolate fill your senses and you scramble for more, hands gripping his face as you desperately try to get your fill of him; of Touya. The steel of the staples bites into your palm but you don’t care, don’t care what form you have him in, you have your Touya back.

You’re being lifted off the floor, hoisted to sit on his lap, feeling the entirety of his body against yours.

You pull away to stare at him, not believing this is happening and that at any moment you are going to wake up or snap out of your delusion.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Touya asks, eyes frantically searching for the reason you aren’t kissing him anymore.

Your chest constricts at his concern. The same sweet and caring boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I’m okay, I just-“You stroke his cheeks and he leans into your touch, inhaling a shaky breath. “I missed you so much. There was so much we didn’t get to do.”

He frowns and nuzzles further into your palm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want you to apologise, I just want..” You can’t form the words. Can’t articulate the need within you for him. All these years you’ve held a torch for your deceased best friend. All these years you could have had him with you and now that you do, you aren’t letting go. “I just want you.”

Touya’s frown deepens. “Even now?”  His thumbs stroke circles along your clothed skin.

You know he is referring to his crimes. All the bad he has done and probably will do. You do not care. You had long ago abandoned your hope in the heroes of society, having been granted a look into the past of the now top hero. There is nothing for you in that world, nothing on offer that could sway your feelings for the man below you.

“Even now, and tomorrow and the day after that and yesterday and the day before and the month before that” You smile, knowing you weren’t making sense but none of this made sense. “I never forgot about you.”

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. You want to apologise, take back the words that had so carelessly tumbled out but his grip on your body stops you.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he sighs, hands sliding up to press into the small of your back.

“Really?” you beam, unable to stifle the excitement that grows in you at his confession.

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.

Your best friend’s fingers trailing over your spine pull you back to the present.

“Never for a single second,” he tests the waters and slips one hand under the hem of your shirt. “I never wanted to forget you.”

When no protest on your behalf comes, Touya slips his other hand beneath the material and begins to trace shapes into your skin.

“What did you think about?” your question is breathless, head beginning to swim as you feel heat bloom in your stomach.

Touya hums in thought, fingers beginning to climb your ribs. “Good things. Great things actually.” hands splay over the band of your bra. “some bad things but that isn’t important.”

Your thighs slip further apart at the implication; weight now fully resting atop his hips. There is no doubt that he can feel the heat from between your legs, the warmth that had begun to pool in the seam of your panties.

“Bad things?” you ask the question without knowing what kind of answer you would get. “I was nothing but nice to you, what bad things could you be thinking of?”

You feel his cock twitch at your innocence. Perfect.

Your answer comes in the form of an action. Touya leans forward and captures your mouth in a searing kiss. All teeth and tongue as his fingers pressed hard into your spine, holding you against his body as if you are a buoy and he is lost at sea. Your own hands begin to wander, sliding from where they came to rest on his neck, into the hair at the nape of his neck and as he digs his teeth into your bottom, you pull at the strands between your digits.

Touya pulls away, breathless.

“I always kept an eye on you, you know.” he pants, pushing your body away only enough to ogle you freely. “And I’ve gotta say you grew up so well.”

There are two thoughts that cross your mind in that spilt second. One: to bring up the fact he has kept you within his sighs for years, has been in the shadows of you life and how there is a part of you, not that big but enough to plant a seed of betrayal, that you can’t forgive him for that. Two: to throw caution to the wind and give into the part of you that aches for him.

The latter wins out.

“I did always think that Dabi was really handsome” you admit, an air of nonchalance in your words.

“Oh yeah? Even with all the new mods?”

“New mods?” you laugh. “Why do you make it sound like you’ve upgraded a game or something?”

Touya laughs with you.

“I’m serious,” vulnerability swims in his eyes as he looks up at you waiting for praise. “Do you really think that I’m still handsome?”

You nod and duck your head closer to his. “I still think you’re so handsome and you will always be handsome, which is really unfair.”

His lips are pressed against yours in a soft kiss. It's gentle and sweet, with no hint of the darkness lurking just below.

“Even after all these years how do you manage to make me so weak?” Touya pulls away to admire you.”You, my pretty girl, are my weakness.”

He tucks your hair behind your ears, holding your cheeks in his cupped hands and pulls you back in for a kiss and you melt into his touch at the possessive compliment.

“All these years, I never thought I’d get to talk to you again let alone touch you.” His mouth moves to your neck, pressing sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “but, fuck, have I thought about it.”

Your skin flushes at his confession.

His teeth sink into your neck, hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to break the skin.

“Thought about kissing you like this” his words are slurred.

Slick begins to pool in your panties, the seam of your jeans dampening.

“Thought about having you in my lap, just the way you are and how good you’d feel on my cock.”

Your head swims at his words.

“When I saw you again for the first time a few years ago, it took everything in me to not walk up to you and kiss you right there and then.” He bites lower, nipping at your collarbone.

Rough hands make their way under your shirt, exploring the expanse of your back.

“Thought about holding you and kissing you and taking you home.” he bites again. “God, the amount of time I’ve spent imagining you under me or spread out just for me.” Breathing becomes hard. “All for me, just for me.” He chants your name as if it were a prayer.

You grind your hips over his, feeling his cock hard and aching beneath you. Touya groans against your throat, fingers digging into your skin. Hands begin to wander downwards until they find purchase on the buttons of his pants, stopping at the metal for approval from the man beneath you and when it comes in a rushed yes, please you flick open the clasp. Your movements are awkward and nervous, having never thought this would happen and you can tell Touya is just as jittery. His fingers dip under the waistband of your pants, toying with the soft elastic of the band. Your hands follow his and pull at the material, trying to pull it down but stop at the realisation there is no way you could do this and still look seductive.

“I’m trying really hard to make this hot, but I don’t think it’s gonna work.” You admit, giggling at the absurdity.

Touya shakes his head, removing his hands from your hips to hold your face again. “I don’t want to fuck you here.” He presses a kiss to your nose.

Before you can ask, he is answering.

“I’m not gonna have the first time I fuck you be on a dirty floor in a random building.” A kiss on your right cheek.

“But what if I want that?” you retort, hand reaching down between the two of you.

His breath catches as your fingers brush against his clothed cock.

“I know you want that,” he pulls your hand away and entwines your fingers. “and you know I do too,” A kiss to your left cheek. “But I had a plan back when we were younger,” he brings your hand to his lips. “and I’ve already had so much taken from us that I’m not letting our first time be taken too.”

Your heart squeezes. He really is the same boy you fell in love with.

“So as much as we both want it, please let me do this, okay?”

You pout, a habit you had formed long ago that usually got you what you wanted from him.

“Please, baby.” The pet name is a gut punch.

 You nod and hold up your pinkie.

“You promise?”

Touya grins wider than you had ever seen and entwines his finger with yours.

“I promise.”

May 17th 2477 Touya: aged twenty-six You: aged twenty-five

-------

ᰔ a/n: NOT PROOFREAD! ohmygosh, this was a long haul. I wrote it and then rewrote it and then rewrote it and so on and so forth till I got here. tiny TINY smut cause i didn’t wanna write a whole ass thing so I might do a one shot of it later. this exhausted me holy- also shout out to billie eilish lmao her entire new album helped me write this mainly chihiro, the greatest and blue but also harry styles' as it was and madds buckley's brother