#yandere bnha x female reader

[yandere-kokeshi]

— Bloody, fucking red!

Pairing: Yandere dabi x afab reader.

Summary: Dabi wants to help with your period. So, why don't you let him?

Warnings: Yandere behavior, period sex, doggy style(?), oral sex, fingering/eating out, soft-dom Dabi.

This is not proofread — this is on queue.

Might do a part two. This was supposed to come out on valentines day but hey, it's out ig.

“Doll, why don’t you let me help?” Dabi asked behind you, cringing at your painful groans.

Sighing, you dig yourself further into the bundle of pillows and blankets, “No… It’s icky.”

“Icky?” You heard him laugh, “What are you, a child now?”

You rolled your eyes, before groaning from the immense stabbing you felt in your lower abdomen. Gosh, did cramps really have to hurt this bad?

You heard Dabi sigh, feeling hands drag along your back and thighs, weight being sunken into the mattress behind you. Turning around, you saw Dabi kneeling over you before kissing your cheek and nose.

“Bambi, I promise. It’ll help with the cramping and bloating. I can show you the damn article.” He looked at you with his icy-blue eyes, trying to convince you to agree to the ‘romantic’ intercourse.

“But–” You stopped, starting to chew on your fingernails with overblown thoughts.

“But what, baby?” Dabi repeated, before smirking at his thoughts. “I know you’re having a hard day. Plus, I know sitting on my face always brightens you up.”

“Dabi, it’ll get messy–” You try to protest. But he brings his face closer to yours, pulling his mouth to your ear before whispering.

“—I like it messy.”

Finally, you nod — a slow, agreeable nod that Dabi took right too. Climbing over you, Dabi took his shirt and pants off, only leaving him in his boxers.

Dabi gets under the sheets, crawling between your legs, making sure to grab a pillow to slip beneath the small area of your back for comfort.

With him laying on his stomach, you felt embarrassed. Uneasy at this position and spiraling thoughts that made the situation worse. What if he leaves you? Or he get fed up with how you bleed and doesn’t let you finish? Or how—

“Hey,”

Slowly, you meet Dabi’s gaze, a soft yet stern look in his eyes. “Stop overthinking. If you want me to stop — tell me.”

You nod yet again, throwing a smile at him before feeling your shirt being pulled off, exposing your stomach and breasts with his warm hands kneading at your skin; feeling his face move downwards, kisses being prepped all over your tummy.

Letting out a shaky sigh of relief, you feel Dabi knead the soft swell of your breasts in his palm. Hearing him hum at your hardened nipples, he looked up at you before speaking.

“Spread your legs.”

Within a second, your pants and panties were guided off, being thrown into the abyss of the semi-larged bedroom.

Dabi pulls you closer to him — earning a small yelp out of you, a small chuckle coming from him.

He pulls your knees over his shoulder before diving in, his tongue meeting your center. He started off slowly, smearing and licking your growing slick and blood all over your entrance, nibbling softly at your clit and squeezing your thighs affectionately.

“Fuckk,” He groaned, making direct eye contact with you. “You’re so fucking sweet. This pretty pussy is my favorite meal.”

You moaned, feeling your cheeks heat up even more. God, it felt really good.

Dabi continues his abuse, the sounds of slurping and occasional deep groans combined with your needy whines, all your negative thoughts and feeling of ‘ickiness’ were sucked away. His thick muscle was flat against your clit, tracing tight but quick circles.

“Cum for me, do it dollface.” He demanded, voice slightly muffled by your thighs clenching around his head. “Come on, you can do it. You're doin’ so well baby, this is all ‘for me, yeah?”

“Shit!” You moaned, embarrassment rushing through you. You tug at his hair, hearing the way he eats your cunt. It’s sloppy, erotic — lewd. Wet noises fill the room, it was borderline disgusting, yet so hot.

Your tummy starts tightening — almost too tight like a rope ready to rip apart.

You came, clenching around nothing as his fingers spread your pussy, licking all the blood and slick that had slid down. Making sure to slurp and suck more as your sensitive pussy carved more stimulation.

Suddenly, the front door had two bounding knocks. Which resulted in both of you turning.

Dabi smiled though, “Guess the pizza is here. Should I go out like this, baby?”

—

Masterlist || Please consider reblogging and commenting instead of liking, it helps me as a creator!! Stay well!!

Do not plagiarize, repost, modify, translate or copy my work.

[a-nuisance-called-sam]

Warning: smut, oral sex, pussy eating/cunnilingus, fingering, non con/rape, yandere, somnophilia, bondage, biting, character x reader, forced orgasm, reader has pussy, neither character nor their gender is specified.

Character x reader

Waking up from your sleep you are met with a silhouette of a person between your legs and your hands tied above your head. Their arms gripping onto both your thighs while their head buried between them, busy making out with your pussy, sucking and licking on it like their life depends on it. A scared and strangled cry leaves you at the sight of what's happening, causing the person to stop and look up at you; mischief and lust dancing on their face. Keeping eye contact, they slowly bite the insides of your thigh, sucking on it gently. Panicked, you wiggle and try to move away from them, only for them to pull you back in and hold you down in place. Going back to gliding their tongue on your clit ever so slow and gently, teasing you all the while staring into your fearful eyes, like a predator with its prey. Closing their eyes they shift their focus back to your pussy. Moving their face a little lower, their tongue starts to play with your hole, the wet muscle lapping at your essence and slithering it's way into your tight little hole. They remove one hand from your thigh and bring them to play with your clit again. Lightly pinching and rubbing at it, making you breathe heavily. You didn't wanna give into the pleasure that you were receiving against your will but your body wasn't agreeing with that. Soon at every swipe of their tongue and finger over your clit and clenching hole, a moan of pleasure would escape you. No matter how much you wanted to control them, they just came out louder. The person switched the placement of their tongue with their hands and vice versa. Now their tongue was sucking and licking over your clit once again but only this time with more force. While the hand took care of your clenching hole. With how wet you already were, they easily slipped two fingers in and started fucking your hole. You bite your lips to stop the moans but it turned out to be futile as the person worked wonders with their tongue and fingers. But just listening to you moan was not enough for them; they wanted to hear you scream in pleasure and come undone in their mouth. So with that goal set in mind, they added another finger to your hole and started to fuck you hard on their fingers. Driving them knuckle deep into you and slightly curly them upwards to hit your spot. "Be good and cum for me darling." They tell you as their tongue and fingers work to give you the world shattering orgasm of your life. Your vision goes black as you arch your back during the orgasm. The person between your legs drinks up all that you give with great joy. Your essence drips down from their chin as they raise their head and finally let go of your legs. Your eyelids grow heavier by the second due to exhaustion but right before you pass out, you hear them say something; something that makes your blood run cold.

"You're forever mine now. "

[ectologia]

♱ ˖ ࣪࿐ 𝐼𝒩 𝒜 𝑅𝒰𝒯 ؛ 𝓀𝑒𝒾𝑔𝑜 𝓉𝒶𝓀𝒶𝓂𝒾

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 ؛ dubcon ﾉ noncon ﾉ forced breeding ﾉ forced pregnancy ﾉ clit spanking ﾉ creampie ﾉ misogyny ﾉ rut ﾉ baby trapping ﾉ feral keigo ﾉ piss ﾉ marking ﾉ profanity

Keigo’s bigger, softer around the edges but still with that slight cut of pristine muscle lining his torso and limbs. His wings thicken, puffy with a fat down blanketing them with gentle red bristles.

Sweaty too. He doesn’t want to wear any clothes. Granted, he says that all the time. But now it’s not just a want, it’s a need. A priority. He doesn’t feel fit to carry out his primitive desires when he’s being held back and restrained by all that stupid cotton and leather. He needs to be free, needs to let his manhood breathe. Otherwise how could he possibly carry out his responsibility as a daddy? That’s right, he couldn’t.

You leave him to his ludicrous antics of digging out nests in your bed. Making a fine art of curling every blanket, quilt and pillow in the house into a cushty barricaded circle atop your mattress, slapping at the cuddly pile of fabric with an almost crazed look, claiming that your “eggs” are going to be so warm and safe there. Or otherwise scenting you, rubbing his damp neck and hair all over your body, starting off with a gentle kiss to your temple, before sliding down your torso to rub his palms against that little pouch of flesh he knows he’s going to put his babies in, eventually.

Keigo doesn’t like the fact that you still insist on walking around the house fully clothed. He doesn’t, so why do you need to? You’re his mate, his wife, his other half. He knows it’s time to procreate, so why don’t you?

He follows you around the house on another one of your cleaning sprees. His nose wrinkles at the acrid scent of chemicals and lemon in the air, scratching at his throat and burning his sensitive nostrils as you continue to wipe the surfaces and spray away the scent of masculine sweat he worked so hard on drowning the house in. Do you really want another male entering his territory?

There’s only the slightest ring of yellow encircling his otherwise blown pupils. He tunes out after the first 10 seconds of your ranting and scolding. Something about how nobody’s going to “steal you away” if he doesn’t piss on the front door. Yeah, we’ll see about that, he scoffs to nobody but himself, plucking a bent feather from his rugged cape of crimson to flick and mould it back to shape, flicking at the fibrous hairs.

“Keigo, are you even listening to me?” You clap your hands in his face, attempting to garner his attention. “Hello?”

He doesn’t like that one bit, the flailed movements seeming all to similar to an opposing threat, a predator. He blinks away the carnal instinct to rip your arms out of their sockets and puncture your skull with his teeth. “Yes.”

“Well, it doesn’t fucking look like it. Can you repeat any of what I just said?”

“Stop pissing outside.”

“And what else?”

“And on the door.”

Glowing ember’s narrow as you huff, massaging your temples as you begin to pace, stomping about the kitchen with a cloth and spray bottle in hand.

He shudders at the sharp hiss of the pump, spitting at the granite counter and washing away his mark.

“Baby..” He draws closer, wings twitching at the irritating squeak of polished marble. Two large hands, both streaked with thick prominent veins clasp your waist in an attempt to bring your rear closer towards his erect, naked member.

“No, Keigo. Not right now, I’m busy.”

An elbow jabs at his ribs as you continue to scrub away at the surface, leaning over the edge with the pudgy mound of your pussy swaying against his cock and balls with a tantalising momentum.

Before you know it, the bottle is yanked out of your hand and chucked against the wall. The towel clutched between your fingers meets the same fate, ripped in two by a set of talons and left in shreds on the floor.

“Keigo!” You shriek, already pushing against him as he grips you by the neck. “Get off! What’s wrong with you!”

It’s a rhetorical question, and one he has no interest in answering anyway. Too busy with pulling the silk of your pyjama pants down to your toes, along with those stupidly skinny pieces of sheer string you seem to think pass as underwear. He can already see globs of slick bubbling along the apex of your pussy hole. He grins at the sight, running a bent knuckle through the valley of your puffy folds. At least your body knows what it was made for.

“Keigo, stop!” There’s a hint of panic in your voice, squirming as he squeezes the delicate tendons holding your spine in place. Holding you by the scruff as though you were a bad puppy.

He sighs, flecks of spit flying from his mouth in his crazed revolution. His wings extend behind him as he clutches his throbbing shaft in his palm, swirling and bathing the velvety tip in your cunny juice. “I’m sorry, chickadee. But this is just how it is in the real word.” There’s a solemn silence, a heavy seriousness to the air as though he wasn’t rubbing his pulsating slit against your clit, collecting its oozing wetness for an easier turn of events. “You gotta’ take what you want. Gotta’ just fuck it out. Otherwise, we’d go extinct.” He lets out a breathy laugh. “Wouldn’t we, honey bun?”

“Ngh — !” The edge of the counter jabs at your hip bones, rolling on delicate skin that’s sure to be bruised after the ordeal. Your waist bucks as he smacks his swollen tip against your nervous bud.

“Mmh, this is what you wanted.” He repeats the motion, flicking his wrist faster and faster until his spanking becomes rhythmic, slapping the sluggish weight of his member up and down on your pussy. It’s a strategic move on his part, torturing your poor sensitive clitty so you’ll be all that more grateful when he moves on to the main course. “Oh yeah? You like that?” He coos as your back hunches, unsure as to whether you’re trying to curl into the pleasure or away from the pain.

After collecting a sufficient amount of lubrication, he does the same, practically clambering onto the counter with your spine arched in his hands as though he were some type of feral beast or savage hound, hung and ready to fuck and breed his bitch. He squats over your quaking form, shoving you along the smooth surface until his drooling dick nestles itself neatly between the cleft of your asscheeks, bobbing against your scared twat with his tensed ball-sack swinging closely behind.

It’s a wildly contorted position, but one Keigo insists on nonetheless.

“Agh, I’ve been waiting for this.” He grunts. “I’ve been waiting so fuckin’ long, and you just wouldn’t let me fuckin’ have it.” Pulling and tugging on your swollen labia, he separate your sticky little slit until all that’s left to shield you is the tense ring of muscle defending your hole. “Well, that’s fine by me chickadee.” He slips inside with a breathy chuckle, giggling and chortling to himself even as you yelp in pain. “I’ll just do it myself.”

It’s fast paced with an ill rhythm. There’s no love or care to be felt in his thrusts, just cruel harsh punishment, a means to an end until Keigo gets to pump his babies into your precious womb, fill you with his chicks so you can finally be a family. A proper family.

“Agh, and we can do Christmas, and Halloween, and go to the beach.” The thought is almost arousing to him, motivating him into humping your rear faster. “Won’t that be fun, little bird?”

He can be sure you’re crying, or at least close to it. He pays your silent tears no mind, blaming it on the excitement of your new life taking will.

“Kei, please! I told you, I’m not ready!” You arch your neck to plead with him.

His smile falters, twisting into something much more sinister and lecherous. He clamps a palm over the back of your skull and turns you back to the wall, facing your pitiful expression away from him. “You don’t need to be ready. I’ll do everything for you.” A calm hiss meets yours ear. “All you need to do, is lay back and take it.”

He digs into your stomach, smashing your insides to pieces as you lay paralysed beneath him. Cold marble presses against your forehead, cooling your fever as Keigo claps into you from above, a heavy set of hung balls knocking against you.

“Keigo!” You chant his name, broken as you wail out a string of pained moans.

“Yeah, that’s what I wanna hear.” Keigo practically howls. “Let’s be animals baby!”

The domes of his knees crash down either side of you, evidence of his newly contorted position as he ruts into your cunt, foaming at the mouth where his teeth grind. “Yes, yes, yes. Fuck yes. Oh, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fuckin’ cum. Gonna’ breed this pretty muff full ‘a seed.”

“Keigo, no!”

Funny you seem to think you’re still in charge. After this, you’re never gonna be empty again. He’s gonna stuff you one kid after another and as many as it takes until you become his cute little housewife. The kind that only cooks and cleans and looks after his babies while he’s out working and providing. Oh yeah, it’s all coming together sweet pea.

Keigo belts with laughter as you scream, thrashing and jerking beneath him as he spurts, spraying his seed deep inside your belly and then some. He slips out halfway, looking down to admire the ring of white sewing your gummy crevice together. “Mmh, now that’s what I’m talking about..”

[sandiaarts]

Reblogs and comments are appreciated

[zentraex]

Can I please request yandere cheater shoto x fiancé reader, where shoto cheats on the reader to spite his father. They are in a quirk marriage and shoto hates that despite the reader trying to be the perfect spouse for him as the reader does house chores and prepares his meals only for shoto to neglect them and coldly dismisses them.

Hi! So, thank you very much for your request! I actually had some big problems with the yandere-part, but I hope it still fits somehow.

Like always: English grammar is different than German grammar. Sorry for any mistakes. :)

Perfect Fiancé

You were the perfect fiancée...theoretically

A hard day full of work? No problem, you took all the things in the household for him.

A villain injured him? No problem, you knew immediately what helped for fast healing.

Shoto needed support in a battle? No problem, you were one of the best heroes.

Shoto needed love?

…

…

…

Your quirk was incredibly strong and quite adaptable. That was also the reason why Endeavour became aware of you. A few meetings with your parents, a few nice words and the matter was decided: you were to become Shoto's wife. 

You cried so much that day. At that time, you still had a boyfriend: the best of them all. He was perfect, no one knew you better than him. Who would have thought that you would ever have to part with him?

Not because of a fight.

Not because of fading love. 

And also, not because he cheated.

No, it was because of the decision of higher powers. 

But you were a positive person. 

Make the most of it! Maybe he's quite nice?

Scratch that!

He's the coldest person you know – but you have to get along with him... for your entire life. 

No matter how hard you tried to make life more comfortable for both of you, everything left him cold. You also had the feeling that he hated you more and more from day to day. 

You can feel it especially today...

"I made food. Would you like to come to the dining table?"

No matter how many times his words have hurt you, you always smile at him.

Without looking at you, he replies, "No, I don't want to eat your food."

Ouch.

Your sad gaze wanders to the food. You've been in the kitchen for for the last two hours, on your only day off.

"Are you sure? I put in a lot of effort today."

"No. I don't want to eat it."

He still doesn't look at you, but you can clearly read his annoyed look. Your heart bleeds.

Shit, it hurts so much.

What are you doing wrong? 

Nothing—it's just the fact that Endeavour chose you. Shoto is a defiant little kid and treats you that way for that only reason. Unfortunately, you just don't know...

"Don't you want to try it at least once?"

You immediately notice how the whole room temperature is getting cooler – but nothing beats Shoto's ice-cold gaze. He clicks his tongue and puts his phone aside, straightens up and looks you straight in the eye.

"Are you stupid?"

„W-What?“ 

Your heart pounds painfully against your chest as you look at him in shock.

This time he gets up, walks slowly towards you and stops just a few steps away from you.

"Are you deaf too? I said that I don't want to eat your disgusting food. Do you want me to repeat myself again?"

Tears gather in the corners of your eyes as you shake your head and look at the floor. 

"Why not so from the beginning?"

The corners of his mouth pull up to a mean smile. His gaze lingers at you for a few seconds before he turns away from you and leaves.

Your gaze wanders to the food that is even decorated to match Valentine's Day.

Does he really hate me that much?

Oh yes, you also realize why when you come home from work and hear another woman moaning in your room.

Yes, you and Shoto have separate rooms and he's doing it in yours. 

Crying, you put your things down and go out. Where?

Away, I just want to get away from him!

You don't even know where your feet are taking you. It's only when you realize you're standing in front of your beloved ex-boyfriend's apartment that you realize where you are. 

"Reader?" asks a male voice that you would recognize everywhere. Sniffling, you turn to him and are just happy to fall into his open arms. 

_

At first, Shoto grinned when he heard the door slam. It was exactly as he wanted it to be. Even if you weren't his dad, it still made him feel like he showed him. 

Today he is invited to dinner at Midoriya's. In a good mood, he gets into the car and drives off

…

He almost didn't recognize you as he drove past. You look like different person at the side of...

Who the hell are you?

You and your ex sit on a bench in the park while you eat your ice cream with a big smile and bright eyes. Shoto has never seen such an expression on you. Yes, you smiled, but it never reached your eyes. You always seem… lifeless at his side.

What is that?

His heart feels like it's tearing apart. Why does it feel like it's bothering him? Weird, he doesn't even like you at all...

 He couldn't enjoy dinner. His thoughts kept wandering to you and this uneasy feeling.

_

The next day, Shoto sat down with you at the dining table for the very first time. Far too focused on your phone, you didn't even notice him at first. It's only when he clears his throat that you look at him.

"Is anything?"

"How was your day yesterday?" 

Speechless, you blink a few times. It takes a while for you to process his question. Annoyed, your gaze turns away from him.

"Pretty good."

"Pretty good? You caught me cheating yesterday, how can your day be 'pretty good'!?"

Shoto chews angry on his lower lip as he looks at you with a boiling look in his eyes. All you can do is rub your temples.

"It's yesterday's horse face, isn't it? I'm your fiancé, not him."

Are you serious?

You suppress yourself from saying anything about it and look at him bored. This only seems to make him angrier as he walks to the door and turns his head towards you. 

"I forbid you to see him."

Before you can say anything, he already locked the door behind him.

[harleys1nhawaii]

TEASE [dabi / todoroki touya x fem!reader]

he's close, you easily can tell.

he's rocking his hips to your wet core harder each time, with no remorse. you're squeling, tears blur your vision. he knows what he's doing to you, how good he makes you feel, like nobody else can. you can hear his grunts and low hisses under his breath. god, you think, being this fine has to be unfair. once you finally manage to open you eyes, you stare up at him. he looked breathtaking with his head thrown back and mouth open, brows furrowed with desire and lust. and kind of...cute. you can't help but giggle at the sight. when your voice catches your own ears, you realize you might've put yourself in a situation you'll regret soon. he lookes down at you, with a slight smirk plastered on his face. if you weren't soaking already, you swore you'd cum just by looking at his face like that.

"what's up, dollface?" he rocks his hips harder this time and steals a low cry from you. but you're already under him and destroyed, so why not play along your little teasing as well? "you look cute when you're close." you cheekily grin. "oh, do i?" now, his smile is bigger than yours. he brings his thumb to wipe the tears peeking around the corners of your eyes as he slams his body to yours one more time. "let's see how ya look like then, shall we?" he purrs. once you see how his eyes darken and his grip on your waist gets rougher, it's your time to panic.

he was close, you swore he was close. but when you came sooner than him it was frustrating. little did you know, though, he wasn't going to stop. not after your silly little teasing. he wasn't going to stop until he could cheekily observe your cumming face enough to picture it for any other time, later.

[lazywriters-blog]

*Cough* *cough*

I had this idea of a jealous best friend bakugo with a reader who is a flirt and a little into fonding over who she likes, she always sneaks in a little tease here and there and makes her interest blush and laugh, she'd gently pinch their cheeks as a form of adoration and the sick fucks enjoys it, enjoying every bit of affection she's giving them for free.

Can just imagine bakugo sitting beside his best friend and having to hear her voice speak such sweet praises that make him question every single compliment he's gotten in his life and wonder if they ever meant it as genuinely and gleefully as her. Because damn it, it's making him wanna demand everything she's ever done to strangers done to him but ten times better.

Cause he deserves the best.

He's going to be a little bitch about it too, probably sulk around and give her the cold shoulder until she notices and asks him what's wrong, how is he? What's on his mind? Has she done something?

Care about him! Care about what he thinks! What he wants! Why doesn't she give him the same treatment she gives to complete and utter strangers who are not her best friends? Eventually, he'll swing his arm around her shoulder and stop her from going anywhere near whoever she likes, pull her back to his table when she tries to get up and leave to some idiots waving and calling her over.

Essentially, he is isolating her. Not like anyone would want to approach seeing him glare at them like that.

He'll even complain saying how she hasn't been around him and how they haven't played video games together in a long time, he's strangely eager about playing games with her and she can't even say 'no' when he recounts all the times she'd ignored him for some loser from another class.

She can tease him for being jealous but he doesn't care, she's his and they are more than just 'best friends.'

[artemis32]

Lovelorn

Yandere Class 1A x reader

yeah, uh, i hate this, but you get what you get

mbe masterlist

Izuku was at a loss.

He'd tried everything - absolutely everything - to get you to open up. To talk. To partake in group activities outside of class

But no matter what he did, no matter how he tried to sell the idea, no matter how manipulative he was, you declined.

Every. Single. Time.

What made it worse was that he knew several other people in your class were trying to achieve the same thing.

Mina had invited you out more times than he could keep count of, and each time she was met with a short, harsh rejection.

Sero and Kaminari had joked with you, trying to get you to at least crack a hint of a smile.

No success.

Momo constantly offered to help you study, and when you inevitably said no, she would insist on tea parties and lunch dates and shopping trips with the rest of the girls in the class. You had stared at her with a blank gaze until she felt uncomfortable enough to leave.

Even Uraraka, as sweet as she was, was unable to crack your tough exterior.

Izuku realised that they were quickly running out of options. They'd run through the list of class members they could turn to for a solution, and sooner or later they'd have to accept the worst-case scenario.

They'd have to ask Bakugo for help.

****

You hated your classmates.

They were annoying. They were insistent.

When they were around, you never got so much as two minutes of peace and quiet.

It was bearable during the first few months of your first year, when you could go home and have a break from their never-ending questions.

But then the school had decided that it was in the best interest of the students to have you all move into dorms.

You hadn't known a single moment of peace since.

There always seemed to be someone attached to your hip, or trailing a few steps behind you, or eyeing you from across the room.

It was annoying, and you thought you’d made that clear.

In the beginning, you thought they had all been so insistent because they were curious about your quirk. 

That in itself was understandable - no one knew one another, so it was natural for everyone to want to get to know their classmates quirks.

You knew of everyone else’s quirks - of course you did, you knew everything about them - and for the most part, they knew about yours, or as much as you’d told them. 

Teleportation.

You thought that would be enough to satiate them, but evidently, you were wrong.

At first, your classmates, Izuku specifically, wanted to know about all the intricacies of your quirk - the parameters, drawbacks, limits, range, all of it. That had been the first warning sign. You were taught growing up to never tell anyone more about your quirk than they needed to know. That was enough for you to avoid Izuku.

All of your classmates seemed to be in awe of your power, which was strange.  You weren’t particularly fond of your quirk. It was just so boring.

Teleportation, especially at your current level, wasn’t very useful to a hero. You weren’t much good when you were only able to teleport yourself.

Regardless, you were working on improving your quirk as best you could.

A small part of your mind whispered to you that they knew about things they shouldn’t, but that was just the usual bout of paranoia getting to you. You’d know whatever they knew straight away.

****

You teleportation quirk had developed at four years old, which was slightly younger than your father had been banking on. He’d gone to great lengths to teach you how to control your ability - at four years old, you had a tendency to just disappear. Not because you wanted to, or because you were actively thinking about leaving. No, it was more because you had absolutely zero control over yourself or your quirk.

By the time you turned six, you’d mastered the control your father so desperately wanted you to learn. You found that keeping your emotions in check helped more than consciously thinking about not using your quirk.

That degree of control couldn’t have developed at a better time, because eight months later, right before your seventh birthday, you developed your second quirk.

Telepathy.

That’s what became the real bane of your existence. 

Sure, you were blessed to have two quirks. In fact, you loved it as a child. But controlling this quirk proved to be significantly more difficult than your first. 

You managed to get it under control, for the most part. You made sure that you weren’t blaring your thoughts out loud constantly, and you learnt how to talk to people one on one pretty quickly.

What you couldn’t control, even close to ten years after discovering your second quirk, was how to shut other people’s thoughts out. 

It was a never-ending battle, trying not to up and leave whenever you got too overwhelmed. 

You’re sure someone could have helped you. The adults in your life - middle school teachers, your friends, their parents, maybe even Mr Aizawa and your classmates could have helped you, but you would never breathe so much as a word to them about your quirk - not when you saw how people reacted to the idea of someone being able to read their every thought.

So you kept it to yourself, occasionally making use of your teleportation quirk to get a moment of silence, leaping far, far away from civilisation, from people’s thoughts.

In those moments alone, it wasn’t so bad. You thought about how incredible your quirks actually were, about how fortunate you were to have a quirk at all, never mind two.

Then you’d return back to your dorm, and the cycle would repeat.

****

You would admit, it was pretty funny.

Hearing how strangely obsessed your classmates were with you was actually hilarious, especially considering they thought you had no idea. Not to mention, constantly ruining their supposedly brilliant plans. 

Some of their ideas truly were brilliant, and they may have worked, had you not known about them in advance.

There were times that you almost felt bad for them. Almost. But playing along with them, seeing just how far you could push them without raising suspicion - it was fun.

Like right now, for example.

“-but I’m sure the weather will be clear enough for a picnic next weekend, since you don’t seem to like the idea of a tea party. What do you think?”

Yaoyorozu and Mina, who stood in front of your desk as you stared out the window, were still talking. Of course, what they were saying sounded nice enough, but their thoughts betrayed their true intentions.

Come oooonnnnnn, say yes, say yes! Just one bit of personal information, that’s all I need. I absolutely have to win this bet with Kaminari, so just give me something to work with!

Mina was someone who remained loud and talkative both within her mind, and when talking to people aloud.

The bet she was thinking about had been a running gag for a while now, something you had almost grown bored of.

Mina, Denki and Sero had made a bet; whoever was first to learn a tidbit of personal information about you, from you, got free reign of the communal gaming system in the dorm lounge for a month.

At least, that's what it started out as in the beginning.

It quickly reached the ears of the other students in your class, and everyone wanted in on the bet.

The promise of dibs on the game system long forgotten, their focus quickly moved on to bragging rights - after all, getting you to reveal any amount of personal information was seen as a great feat, one worthy of praise.

It had been funny at first, seeing how they scrambled to talk to you first, or the awkward ways they interacted with you to get even the slightest sliver of information.

Now, their thoughts gave you a headache whenever they were near.

You could probably have gone to Mr Aizawa if you had to - you were sure you could fabricate some evidence of their weird behaviour and have him intervene.

But the problem was, he was just as bad.

He had this weird, protective mindset.

It had creeped you out at first, but with time, you'd almost grown fond of his concern. It was... endearing. Kind of. Like a father. Or a puppy.

Regardless, he knew about their antics, and he hadn't bothered with them so far, so you decided it would be best if you kept your knowledge of the situation to yourself.

“No. Thank you though,” you reply smoothly, turning away from them to signal the end of the conversation.

But of course, they never really took no as an answer.

“Why? If it’s because you don’t want to be around a ton of people, then don’t worry about it - it’ll be like, eight of us. Please,” they ask, eyes wide and hopeful.

You’re saved, literally, by All Might entering the classroom with a silent shuffle.

“To your seats everyone, get to your seats please.”

****

Even without the use of your quirk, you can feel your class glowering from across the room.

You aren’t sure how your purple haired companion doesn’t realise that they’re glaring daggers at him - he really doesn’t even register that they’re looking at him at all.

But he doesn’t mention it, and no thoughts of them cross his mind, so you pay them no mind.

You liked Shinso. He was good company - quiet, polite, and his thoughts were the kind that barely skirted the edge of your consciousness. Being around him was like a breath of fresh air, so you clung to him.

It wasn’t often that you found someone who didn’t induce a migraine as soon as they entered the room. In fact, you could count on one hand the number of people you’d met that you could tolerate for longer than ten minutes.

Shinso was one, and Aizawa, surprisingly, was another. 

Even more surprising than that though, had to be that Bakugo of all people had a quiet mind.

If anyone had known about your quirk and you told them, you were sure they’d call you a liar.

But it was the truth. The angry blond had such a tranquil mind that, if he allowed it, you’d befriend him. But you’d grown an aversion to being near him, as wherever Bakugo was, a crowd of classmates was sure to follow.

You’re brought back to the present moment as Shinso shakes his hand in front of your face, throwing you a quizzical look.

“Ah, sorry, I zoned out.”

He nods in understanding, before glancing behind you.

“Just thought I’d let you know; your classmates look like they want my head on a stick,” he says in a bored tone, eyes sliding back to you a moment later.

You make a noise at the back of your throat.

“Yeah,” you wince, “I noticed that. I didn’t want to mention it.”

He shrugs, standing up and offering you his hand.

“Well, then let’s find somewhere else to sit, huh?”

You smile. Your classmates are outraged, seething as you accept his hand and sweep out of the cafeteria.

Thank goodness, you think, there were so many voices.

You only went to the cafeteria because Shinso liked the soba they served.

Honestly, braving the bustling centre felt like someone was hitting between your eyes with an ice-pick - pure torture.

The flood of thoughts fades as the two of you walk further from the main building, and your shoulders slump with relief.

If he notices, Shinso doesn’t comment. You’d thought originally that he was just extremely unobservant, but he really just didn’t think about or mention anything unless it raised any actual concern.

You’d realised that when you had accompanied him to a private training session with Aizawa, and you’d had a migraine from a long day of dealing with your classmates.

He only brought it up, openly thought about it when he saw how you grabbed at your head out of the corner of his eye.

Being with him was peaceful, you’d realised in that moment, because he had incredible control over his thoughts. That must have been because of his own predominantly mental quirk.

The thought made you happy, for some reason.

****

You liked when Mr Aizawa used his quirk on you.

The rest of your classmates hated it, and it really seemed to throw them off, but to you, it felt like sweet relief. It made everything quiet. Peaceful.

There were times where it threw you off, suddenly hearing nothing but radio silence, but after some adjustment, it was as if someone had released the pressure on your skull. Not that he, or anyone else knew.

Though, on some occasions, when he looked at you before you had time to mask the relief on your face, you saw the slight glimmer of something akin to realisation in his eyes. If he knew, he never brought it up.

It should’ve had you on edge - the fact that he might’ve known, but never said anything. But it didn’t. You didn’t know why.

If anyone were to discover your second quirk, you’d be in a world of trouble. Having an unregistered quirk, especially at your age, in UA of all places - it was unheard of. 

It was criminal.

So you should’ve been terrified at the thought of someone finding out, knowing about your quirk.

But surely if he knew, he’d have brought it up by now?

“Quiet down class,” Aizawa demands flatly.

They don’t listen. Of course they don’t. 

Their incessant chatter matches their constant barrage of thoughts, and it seems particularly noisy today. All their thoughts are focused on you, and it leaves a sharp throb in your temples.

Aizawa glares at them, eyes flashing crimson for a moment, and you feel all the tension melt away. You prepare yourself for the inevitable rush of returning voices, but it doesn’t come. Aizawa, for some reason, keeps his quirk activated, gaze roaming the class, lingering on you for a second too long before he looks away, brows furrowing as he blinks.

You mask your wince with an awkward cough, shifting in your seat. Now, most thoughts were centred around Aizawa and how scary he was.

The thought makes you laugh. They were so far off the mark, it was comical. Aizawa was like an overly concerned parent, thoughts constantly circling his students, how he could push them to be better. Honestly, it was quite heart warming, and the fact that his actions were so glaringly different to his thoughts made it ten times funnier.

Aizawa calls your name, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Sensei?”

“See me after class.”

Before you have a chance to delve into his mind to see what he was thinking, a barrage of thoughts hit you from all angles, your classmates wondering, like you, what this was all about.

You don’t give much thought to his request, too overwhelmed to try and sift through the turbulent sea of thoughts.

****

Aizawa schools his expression, staring down at you blankly.

“Well?”

You looked so young like this – wide eyed, trembling hands, pale, blanched face. You were panicked. He knew you were, but he made no move to ease your worries, waiting instead for confirmation.

“I– Sensei…”

He feels his brow twitch.

Not in annoyance. Not with you. Never you. You tended to tug at his heart strings, for reasons he didn’t fully understand.

Maybe because you were so young? You appeared younger still with that gleam of innocence in your eyes. Hero society was no place for someone like you - you were someone heroes should be protecting, rather than welcoming into their ranks.

“Answer the question.”

Your throat bobs as you swallow and turn your head to look out the window.

Were you thinking of a way to talk yourself out the situation? Were you trying to find a way to play off his discovery as nothing more than a funny happenstance? He didn’t doubt it.

“…yes.”

The word weighs heavily on you, shoulders sagging as you stand before him, curling in on yourself. His heart aches at the sight.

How overwhelming was it, to keep something like this to yourself? To live in fear of someone discovering your secret and hating you for it?

“And you’ve kept this to yourself for the past ten years? You’ve had no training or help whatsoever?”

You seem surprised at the shock colouring his tone, as if you’d expected him to be angry or fearful, rather than sympathetic. Again, he wondered how you’d dealt with this all alone for so long.

He sighs.

“You’re not in trouble. I’m not mad.”

He sees the tension melt from your posture in real time, as if someone had lifted an anvil off your shoulders.

“If you’d like, I can help you. We could do some training after classes; help you learn control? I can’t promise anything, but it might help.”

Of all the things Aizawa had expected to happen, you bursting into tears wasn’t one of them. Some long buried protective instinct rears it’s head at the sight of your red rimmed eyes as you try desperately to mop away the tears on your cheeks.

He awkwardly shifts from one foot to another, patting your shoulder in a pathetic attempt to comfort you.

“I’m really not in trouble? Y-You don’t hate me for listening in on your thoughts without permission?”

Again, that same painful clench in his heart.

“No, I don’t. Why would I hate you for something you can’t control? None of your classmates would either, I can promise you that.”

Aizawa spends the next twenty minutes clumsily comforting you, dismissing you as soon as your tears have stopped and he makes his way to the principal’s office a few minutes later. When he arrives, he’s immediately greeted by a very tense looking All Might and an oblivious, chattering Nezu.

He seats himself in the armchair next to Toshinori, posture sagging.

“You were right.”

Nezu cackles at that, hardly able to get a word in through his triumphant laughter. His reaction is in stark contrast to the other two men and their responses. The two share a tense, understanding look, glancing back at Nezu as he calms his laughter.

“Oh, this is most wonderful! I can’t wait to see what happens!”

Guilt eats away at Aizawa. He could only hope you wouldn’t hate him and Toshinori, or even your classmates for what they planned on doing.

[vampcubus]

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!yandere!izuku, dom!fem!reader, kinda mean reader, izuku being delusional & obsessive, spitting, oral (f!receiving), not proofread.

I wanna bully Yandere Izuku just a bit, just to watch him crumple at the slightest crumb of attention. Because let’s face it, Izuku doesn’t care if you’re being nice to him. He wants you to perceive him, to acknowledge him as something tangible — something worth your time. And if you spend that time pulling on his chubby cheeks and hooking your fingers in his mouth to spit into it, who is he to try and stop you?

If he can’t be with you, he can at least be entertaining for you. If you say all he’s good for is to spread his legs and fuck himself on his fingers while you watch, who is he to disagree? All that processes in his fuzzy little head is that he’s good for something.

It’s just fun at first, teasing your pathetic little stalker to see him trip over himself. You didn’t mean for it to go this far, but you can’t deny that the creep has grown on you. After all, who else would get on their knees and worship the ground you walk on while being treated like a pet? Not many, which makes Izuku a special case that you just can’t get enough of.

Your conscience is telling you to get outta there, that playing with someone’s feelings that was so clearly ill for you was a bad idea. You can imagine the fit he’d throw if you proposed such an idea, actually quite vividly because he’s throwing it right now.

“What do you mean we shouldn’t see each other anymore? I thought things were going so well!” He sobs into your thigh, his arms and legs clinging to your leg like a child. Your hands hover just above his head awkwardly, unsure if you should really be comforting him right then. “You can’t break up with me now!”

“Break up? We were never even a thing. There’s nothing to break up. I let you follow me around and we had a bit of fun, but really this is getting out of control. I mean, I’m using you, you know?”

Izuku doesn’t seem to be hearing you though, too caught up in his own delusions. You had expected him to take it poorly, but this was worse than you thought.

“You weren’t concerned about using me before. Why are you abandoning me all of a sudden? I just wanna make you happy!” The man bawls, and you’re ashamed by how the pathetic look on his face excites you.

He was pretty, even when he cried.

“Don’t you see that whatever fantasy world you live in isn’t real? I told you from the beginning that a relationship between us was impossible.”

“But you keep coming back to me. That means I’m useful to you, right? I’ve been so good for you. I’ve stopped following you around as much and I’ve been taking less of your stuff like you asked me to! I’ve done everything you asked without question, you can’t throw me away now!” Izuku’s fingers twist in your shirt, and he uses it as leverage to drag himself up from the floor.

“Izuku,” you sigh, more protestations resting on the tip of your tongue, but he beats you to the punch.

“Let me prove to you how much you need me. That no one can make you feel as good as I can, can submit to you like I can.” He sinks to his knees before you, like he’s done countless times before, his shaking hands pulling your skirt up so he can mouth at your cunt through the cotton of your panties.

Your knees buckle at the contact, your hand rushing down to hold the back of his head despite yourself. You can only sigh and let him lap at you, letting him tug your panties down your legs to suckle at your oversensitive pussy properly.

You have to admit that he’s gotten much better at this. You can vividly remember the first time you let him go down on you, teaching him how to eat you out the way you liked it. And you can tell now that he’d memorized every word, every moan of approval and scrap of praise you’ve thrown his way because he knows just where you need his slick tongue to tease.

Izuku still moans excitedly into your pussy after all this time, as if the act itself was pleasurable for him too. Not knowing that he dreamed of it years before you met officially, or how he fucked his fist until his cock was raw at the thought of tasting you. He savors every swipe of his pink tongue over you abundant slick like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to, and with a hitch of his breath, tears spring to his eyes when he realizes that it might be.

If he didn’t do a good job you’d leave him.

[1l0v3y0ud0ntl3av3me]

||Yandere!Bnha Oc x gn reader||

▪︎Yikes, well NSFW so please MDNI or I'll personally put you down 🔫

TW: NSFW, Suggestive themes, Noncon(?), Him fucking you in your sleep-, Groping, public ehem indecency, dark themes, Violence, breeding, Top character, Bottom reader, etc-

Jun, our villian of the day. His Quirk requires skin to skin contact and it lead to him pounding into you. You can say he is a human aphrodisiac with just a single touch.

If his touch affects you a lot, imagine his bodily fluid- it amps it up and makes you dizzy and needy.

He loves using this on you whenever he is in the mood or you keep trying to escape. Once you are near the front door turning the knob, he is already putting his hands in your pants and kissing up your neck whispering, "Hah..Do I need to teach you that you can't live without me and my cock, hm?"

Believe it or not, he doesn't even use his Quirk on anyone else except you because he hates touching someone else Nevertheless fucking them. He just does a simple bullet to the head for fun. They don't even need to do anything, they can just exist and he will shoot them.

Let's talk about when he first met you, he was simply strolling around the city looking for someone to torture until he saw you..The oh so..innocent you. He can smell that you haven't slept with anyone yet. From then on, he trailed after you and left Cum stained used underwear of yours.. presents in your room! How sweet~

He especially love when you are defenseless during your sleep! He likes laying right behind you and..touching you. Ngh, God you are so soft..

He tends to rub his cock in between your thighs after taking off your underwear and pants! He teases your entrance with his tip a lot..He won't put it in though!

Oh what's this? It seems he is already inside you..Don't worry he won't cum ins-oh dear..He accidentally filled you up. Your belly looks so delicious marked up with his cum.

Despite already getting filled up, he continues to rut inside you while whispering dirty things to your sleeping self. It's surprising how you slept through all that!

The fact that he would not clean you up and even have the audacity to shove something inside your hole so it doesn't drip out. He can't wait to see your reaction.

If somehow you woke up during it, he will make sure you are screaming his name by the end of it. He will try to knock you up even if you can't have a kid. "Fuck baby..You're going to be a good parent for my kid, mhm yeah? Yeah you will.."

Oh you don't want it? Well too bad, he will just have to tie you up during it..

He will even do this in public. Let it be in front of everyone or in an alleyway. Which one would you pick?

Jun would make sure everyone knows you are his whether you are walking out the bathroom stall with his cum dripping down your legs or neck filled with bites and marks.

Oh but putting all those aside! At least he is loyal?

[yandere-kokeshi]

Yandere thought of the day:

Roommate Izuku who decided to take you at the moment he sees you weren't getting enough sleep. Of course, he's generous enough to pay off all your college debts, including buying you a new mattress and clothes that fitted your figure so well (along with some Deku merchandise)

Roommate Izuku who always shrugs it off whenever you want to pay him back, whether that's for rent or groceries; he always declines and says "You can get me back next time, sweetheart."

Roommate Izuku always offers to wash your clothes. But, he always makes sure to steal a few dirty pares of undies and bras as the last pare doesn't smell like you anymore.

Roommate Izuku loves to cook for you, making whatever you want after a hard day. But, he always adds a secret ingredient that helps you have more energy.

Roommate Izuku who keeps a camera in the corner of your room, watching your every move and sees you do things that are for his eyes and eyes only.

Roommate Izuku who always comforts you whenever your friends or partner decide to leave you, saying along the lines of "You have me baby, why don't I cook your favorite?".

Roommate Izuku jacks off at pictures of you. The photos that show a bit tad more skin, the ones you are naked, showing, or the ones who you are playing with yourself.

Roommate Izuku who doesn't hesitate to make sure you feel good, to make sure you forget the lousy, idiotic partner you have who doesn't take proper care of you.

Roommate Izuku always welcomes you with a kiss, a giant hug, and fingers trailing around the belt of your pants to make sure you know you belong to him and him only.

Roommate Izuku makes sure to please you as much as he can: hooking his fingers around your panties, pulling them down while sucking on your delicate skin.

Roommate Izuku who just wants to love you.

[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. 

[black-aurora-nora]

New Baby Pt. 1 | Yandere!Todoroki Family x Reader

Inspo: @i-cant-sing

You weren't woken up by the familiar sound of a heart monitor or the chatter of nurses. You were woken by something much more unexpected.

You felt the sun's shining warmth against your face. Someone was gently attempting to shake you awake. Their hand felt huge in comparison to your shoulder and you fought to get yourself to wake up.

"(Y/N), it's time to wake up now." A deep voice told you when you let out a tired whine.

Finally, your body cooperated and allowed you to flutter your eyes open.

You immediately took in the stranger sitting in the bed beside you, then the pastel bed sheets and the feeling of silk pajamas that you definitely weren't wearing the day before.

You scrambled back in shock, your mind screaming danger.

This wasn't the hospital and the red-haired man sitting in front of you was neither a nurse or a doctor that you recognized, and he wasn't wearing anything that told you he was a medical professional.

He didn't seem very shocked at your behavior either, just a little worried.

"Who are you?!" You asked, now standing at the opposite side of the queen sized bed you'd just been sleeping in, "And where am I?! This isn't the hospital!"

Your heart rate was picking up and your chest was beginning to hurt. You knew that you needed to sit down but how could you when you'd just woken up in a strange place with a strange man?

The man didn't answer either of your questions, only glancing at you in concern, "I'll answer your questions, but you need to sit down and lower your heart rate before you pass out."

How did he know about your heart condition, you wondered. Was he actually a nurse?

No, that couldn't be right.

You were very obviously in someone's house; most likely his.

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself, you asked again, "Who are you and where am I?"

You could tell the man wasn't happy about you not sitting down but he relented, "My name is Todoroki Enji, but you will address me as 'dad'. And we're in your room in our home."

You faltered at the new information and shook your head like it was reflex, "You... you're not my dad though. My dad looks nothing like you... What's happening?" Tears welled in your eyes, anxiety springing back into your body, "I want my mom! Please take me back to her!" You pleaded.

Enji only sighed, softly shaking his head, "I know this a lot to take in, but this is your home now. Your biological parents decided to leave you in our care-"

"No!" You snapped, "No, they didn't! We were supposed to go to the movies today!" You recalled the day prior and gripped at the silk cloth over your chest, heart drumming and chest beginning to grow tight, "Tak-" You gasped out, "Take me to my parents! Right now! Right now! Right now!"

Enji stood up at your screeching and your voice got caught in your throat.

He was so large and intimidating. He could probably kill you with ease.

And having that knowledge in mind had you second-guessing if you could just scream your way out of this situation.

"(Y/N), I will not tolerate this behavior. Either you calm yourself down or you can take a nap and we can try again later. What will it be?" He questioned.

Oh, how you really did want to calm yourself, but how could you?

It felt like someone was squeezing your chest like a tube of toothpaste. No matter how hard you tried to take a deep breath, your lungs remained clamped shut like a clam.

Heart drumming in your ears, your sight blurred significantly and spots began to decorate the fuzzy world around you.

Next thing you knew, your knees buckled from beneath and you dropped to the ground like a ragdoll.

Enji cursed under his breath, strolling around the bed and settling you back under the pastel comforter.

He knew you wouldn't take any of this easily, you were young after all, younger than Shoto, now that he was thinking about it.

But he was sure that once you met the rest of the family, you would warm up to them in no time.

Once he made sure that you were sound asleep, he left your room and was immediately greeted by the rest of his family gazing at him expectantly.

Shoto glanced up from his phone, "That didn't sound too good." He commented.

Rei stepped forward, hand clutched to her chest worriedly, "Is my baby okay? She sounded so upset."

With a nod, Enji explained that your first awakening went just as smoothly as he thought it would, "I'll make sure to show her the 'letter' her parents left for her. Hopefully, she'll be more at ease around us thinking that her parents really did leave her in our care."

Rei gave an agreeing nod, "Absolutely, anything to get her to trust us."

Natsuo grumbled, clearly frustrated, "Damn, I was really hoping we could meet her today and have dinner together like a family."

Fuyumi kept a hopeful smile on her face, "Don't worry, she'll be ready tomorrow and we can have a nice breakfast together! Right, dad?"

"Of course. (Y/N) is the key to fixing our broken family. She'll be ready tomorrow." He said knowingly.

They quietly left your door, leaving you to sleep for the rest of the day.

You'd need your energy for tomorrow.

[kiame-sama]

Of Cats And Hawks- (Yandere!Hawks x Reader) pt 3

Warnings; yandere behavior, yandere relationship, yandere temperament, possessive behavior, various animal courtship behavior, perverse Hawks, NSFW themes and content, nesting behavior, item theft, scent kink, oral (fem receiving), tail pulling, feathers, bit of a masochist Hawks,

~~~~~~~~

"Just like that..!"

The voice panted and huffed in exhilaration, hands working tirelessly to get everything he needed how he needed it. It was almost a frenzy of movement as the soft sound of fabric sliding against fabric could be faintly heard. Each desperate breath working on getting that scent and drowning in it like some sick degenerate.

He is a sick degenerate.

As far as Keigo was concerned, he was a filthy and depraved lunatic when compared to you and how calmly you seem to have approached it all. Countless hero centered magazines put the two of you in the headlines and numerous fan-clubs did analysis of the potential conflict the two of you would endure as a couple. Keigo was thrilled to have claimed you so obviously and had been working ever since your last meeting.

Keigo had more things to do, but he did allow himself a nice recreational distraction every now and again. Buying clothing your size and grabbing whatever he can from your room while you weren't there, replacing your old clothes with the new ones and hoping you don't notice. Taking your scent soaked clothes back to his apartment to add to his current shrine, as unconventional as it was.

"Smell so good..! Make me lose my mind..!"

Keigo groaned into the clothes he held up to his face, drinking in your natural scent and moaning in bliss. After another long inhale, he lovingly wove it into his current obsessive project. His sparse and near dismal apartment was already rather barren compared to how others thought he lived, so it wasn't like the odd nest was in the way of anything.

Nesting was a new behavior, even for Keigo, and he was curious to see just what this new development did for him. He had approached the hero association about it- seeing as they controlled almost every part of his life- and their response was not as he expected. Instead of making him remove his dearest darling from his life, they encouraged him to advance the relationship. Having been given the all-clear to push the relationship forward, Keigo found himself nesting.

The nest itself was an amalgamation of clothing, pillows, and blankets. Despite how garish or gaudy some may find it to be, Keigo thought it was beautiful. He was especially pleased with the many colors that were in it, vaguely understanding that it was likely a bird instinct that demanded the multitude of colors.

"Need you so much...!"

He panted softly and nuzzled his face against the clothing that he had so lovingly woven into his nest, his wings fluttering rapidly behind him. It was during this affectionate display that a knock came at his door, breaking through his concentration sharply. The silence that followed almost made him believe that whoever it was went away before there was another knock followed by a familiar voice.

"Keigo? The others sent me to check up on you. You haven't been to the agency in days and no one has heard from you since."

Oh, Darling, there you were.

Did you know he has been waiting for you anxiously to arrive? Did you know that he was building this fantastic nest for you? Did you come to help soothe the itching and frustrating ache inside of him? Did you see how many colors were in his nest just for you?

"Keigo," your voice called again, spurring the Hawk hero to stand and rush to the door, "say something so I know you are okay."

When he threw the door open, you clearly had not expected him to rush forward to see you. Your tail was fluffed and your ears were back as Keigo pulled you inside, slamming the door behind the two of you loudly. Your eyes easily adjusted to the dark of his home and you tried to take in as much as you could about the situation despite the sudden way you entered the room.

"Please... Help... Please, I need... I need help..!"

You felt genuine concern hearing how out of breath and frantic Keigo seemed at that moment. Usually Keigo was very level headed and confident as the hero Hawks, but something about his tone sounded truly pitiful to you as he hung onto you and whimpered like an injured animal. It was then another scent registered to your mind, one that was sharp and intense. Your brain recognized it almost immediately as pheromones coming from Keigo, and those pheromones told you just what exactly he needed help with.

You had agreed to try a relationship with Keigo and it wasn't far into that relationship when you learned how you were the only truly stable partner he has ever had. He told you about the Hero's Association and how he had been drafted in as only a child, meaning you were the only support Keigo had in and out of the hero world. Though the Association did attempt to have you keep an eye on Keigo, you refused to be another spy in his life.

Keigo was whining and slowly grinding his hips against you, letting you feel the rather hard erection he had as he continued to whimper softly. His hands were clinging to you desperately and he panted heavily in your ears, feeling almost feverish to the touch.

You took a moment to decide what you wanted to do, and the obvious choice was the one you settled on.

"Such a bad birdy," your voice was a soft croon, "already ready to go and here we both are, far too dressed for this situation."

The second Keigo actually registered your words, you felt his feathers rip through the clothes you were wearing. You knew he had stolen a fair portion of your clothes as the ones he replaced them with were covered in his scent, but you knew now why he so desperately wanted them. Each piece of clothing he had taken was woven into his nest and even as the scraps of what you wore fell to the ground around you, his feathers tried to weave the scraps into the nest as well.

Keigo fell to his knees and gripped your thigh, pulling one of your legs over his shoulder as he buried his face between your plush thighs. His tongue was hot as it wormed its way into your soft folds, slurping and lashing against you. You couldn't help the surprised gasp as Keigo almost viciously worked you over with his tongue.

His wings slowly came up, feathers moving from where they were to lift you up, holding your legs spread for the blond. Keigo looked like a wild animal as he crouched between your legs, eyes rolled back as he shoved his face against you, refusing to pull back for air. You whined and gripped his hair, feeling one of his hands suddenly grip the base of your tail and give a light tug.

He pushed two fingers into you, working your hot hole open enough to add a third finger. Each pump of his fingers was accented with a light tug at your tail, leaving you mewling in pleasure. The sensation of him pulling your tail, working you with his tongue, and sliding his fingers into you had you cumming roughly, holding his head with your hands as you whined and rocked your hips.

Despite how early in the relationship it was for you, you also felt sorry for Keigo and the state he was in. You knew very well how hormones from your animal quirk impacted the way you reacted to certain situations. Clearly Keigo was pleased as he kept his face buried between your thighs and worked almost tirelessly to lap up the plentiful juices your body provided.

"That's enough," you panted, pulling a desperate Keigo away from your weeping folds, "no more for you."

"N-no! No, please! Please, I need-!"

"No more standing, Keigo. You built a nest for a reason, right?"

His golden eyes were almost completely black with how his pupils were blown wide and dilated. Of course, once your words registered to his hormonal mind he was throwing you down onto the plush nest he built for the two of you. Most of your missing clothes were present in the nest along with any blankets Keigo had to his name. He clearly spent quite a lot of time on the nest and had likely been building this nest since he had last come into work.

He climbed on top of you much like a predator stalking up on his prey, his wings were flared to either side of his body as he panted heavily. Something about the way Keigo looked- wild and untamed- sparked interest in your mind as you let the red-winged hero run his hips against yours. Every thrusting motion slid his hot cock through your folds, slicking him up with your juices.

"Soft 'n good... So warm..!"

Keigo was nearly drooling as he continued to rut his hips, whining from the blissful sensation running through him. His hands were kneading your soft breasts and his lips roamed over your warm skin all while he continued to whine and gasp. He still didn't enter you as he struggled to line himself up, doing what he could to not have to pull his hands away from your soft figure.

"Keigo," you almost growled in frustration at the lack of contact, wanting to reach down and grab him yourself, "just... get in, damn it..!"

He finally managed to angle himself well enough to prod at your weeping hole, pressing into you with a loud groan of pleasure. You gripped his shoulders tightly as that thick length bullied its way inside of you. The stretch almost seemed like it would be too much for your soft body to handle. It was only when he bottomed out that you realized he wasn't just thick, but he was long too.

"F-fuck! So good..!"

Keigo actually was drooling at this point as he gasped and tried desperately to keep himself still. Regardless of how clouded his mind was by instinct and pleasure, he still kept in mind how fragile you possibly were. Holding himself still was proving to be a difficult task but one he was dedicated to.

"Move..!" You gasped and tried to slightly adjust your hips, "Move, Keigo..!"

The hawk hero didn't need to be told twice as he set a quick and brutal pace, his wings spread and flapping behind him. Your hands were buried in the feathers along his wings, pulling a few as you held to the feral hero. Similarly, Keigo's hands were busy roaming your body and pausing to palm your soft flesh appreciatively.

It was only when Keigo gripped your tail and gave a particularly rough tug that you became much more vocal. You let out a yowling moan as he continued to tug and toy with the appendage, claws sinking into his wings. Keigo moaned deep and rumbling sounds as he continued to tug your tail, relishing the sound of you yowling for him so sweetly.

"Good-! Good kitty..! Claw me up, pretty kitty, please..! Fuck, I need you to do it!"

Soon his pleas became breathless babbling and appreciative moans as you did exactly what he was begging for. All he could do at that point was hold your tail and piston his hips into you wildly until he could no longer move. Everything he wanted and a precious lover the Heroes Association actually allowed, it was all he could ever ask for. Well, the current sex was great too, but he hoped it would be an ongoing arrangement.

Keigo could feel the way your walls tightened up around him and he lost all sense of self. The quick witted and resilient hawk hero was little more than a mindless slave to the feel of your body and sound of your voice. Truly nothing mattered to him beyond pushing you into as many orgasms as he could wring from you.

He knew you could handle it well enough. After all, you were his feral Street Cat.

[harleys1nhawaii]

LATE NIGHT SNACK [dabi / touya todoroki x f!reader]

whenever dabi is in bed with you and he can’t sleep, he just starts grabbing, you know, just a little bit. his hands are roaming around your curves and he’s gently squeezing. it feels a little softer than what he’s used to. maybe you took a hot bath. he doesn’t really remember the last time he fucked you in your sleep and now that his cock’s burning with a desire of it, he got more to mind about than these little details.

he’s inpatient, he never really gave two fucks about his partners on regular days. but your connection with him taught him gentleness and how to weigh his actions.

he starts off slow, considering vigilant, pulling your panties down your bare legs, reaching into your baggy t-shirt and rubbing your bare tits. you mumbled something he couldn’t really form into words and just seconds later, you turned your head to the opposite side, drifting back to sleep. “cute.” he let out a silent cackle, feeling his boner harden by the sight of your bare chest, going up and down everytime you breathe.

his index finger slides inside your folds while his thumb slowly begins to rub your clit. the insides of your thighs prickle by the unexpected heat of his hand. your walls unawarely suck him in and squeeze around his fingers as he adds a 3rd one. he feels it getting soaked with every single slow thrust, feeling his boner stretching the fabric of his boxers. he pulls his throbbing cock out with his other hand, pumping it as the precum leaking from the tip.

blue flames shines on his jacob’s ladder, veins popping out. after a few times of rubbing his cock on your soaked pussy, he replaces the fingers inside with his bulge. your lips part open, softly whining at the larger stretching sensation. he picks up his pace, placing his hand inside of your right thigh and rubbing your tit with the other. his face appears in the crook of your neck, gently sucking and biting on the skin, low grunts audibly clear in your ear.

your eyes decide to open, trying to comprehend the situation. you let out a moan, being caught off guard by his thrusts inside your tight walls. he raises his head just above yours, smirking at the bewildered look on your face. frantically palming the sheets below, you gaze up at his blue irises, unable to form words. his grin transforming into a big pedantic smile, he presses his lips on yours and doesn’t let go until you struggle for the lack of oxygen.

“good morning, doll.”

[apollodarling-writes]

yanderes who will literally worship the ground you walk on.

yanderes who believes you’re a princess/goddess/prince/god/royalty/deity

yanderes who will sacrifice people to you and leave you notes describing their sacrifice

yanderes who are literally so sweet but can flip in an instant

yanderes who will cuddle you and give you everything you will ever want

yanderes who will love you no matter what you do, who you are, what you look like, etc

yanderes who are delusional and think that you smiling at them means that you’re in love

yanderes who would kill you and then themselves so no one could have you

yamaguchi tadashi, sugawara koshi, asahi azumane, daichi sawamura, kuroo tetsuro, bokuto kotaro, nishinoya yu, tanaka ryunnosuke, hinata shoyo, yachi hitoka, midoriya izuku, kaminari denki, momo yaoyorozu, kirishima eijiro, gon freecs, takemichi hanagaki, chifuyu matsuno, shinichiro sano, akashi senju, kazutora hanemiya, sanzu haruchiyo, hinata hyuga, tanjiro kamado, zenitsu agatsuma, giyu tomioka, shinobu kocho, mutsuri kanroji, tengen uzui, rengoku kyojuro, mutsuki tooru, shirazu ginshi, juzo suzuya, hideyoshi nagachika,