aisakayua

Latest Posts by aisakayua

I personally prefer car guys over bike guys but bike guys r still so hot😩

ROARING ENGINES — streetracer!dabi x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: Your boyfriend, a streetracing!Dabi, invites you to take a ride with him, which ends in an annoyingly teasing makeout session.

WARNINGS: unsafe driving, needy dabi (<3), slightly suggestive, reader is able to fit in dabi’s lap with ease— i apologize for the lack of plus-sized inclusivity; however, i couldn’t pass up this request!! i am a minor. do NOT interact if you are a stricly mdni account.

W/C: 1.7k

A/N: oh. my days. i love this so bad. I LOVE THIS SO BAD!!!! this was an amazing experience. one of the scenes in this fic was inspired by this scene in fast n furious. UGH. love. anywho, requested by @sepptember , proofread by @ikn9wyou!! follow auggie and alani. they have wonderful ideas.

Your boyfriend wasn’t one for showing off— he was reserved. Didn’t care for most people’s opinions. Unless he was on the road. When Dabi’s speeding down the highway, he wants everyone to hear. Especially you.

You were sitting on your apartment couch, the blue light from the TV shining on your face. You weren’t really even watching the show that was on, moreso doom scrolling through various apps— opening and closing them as though they were a fridge and you were hoping more food would magically appear.

Unfortunately, nothing caught your eye.

You let out a loud sigh, changing positions so you were laying down now. That’s when you heard it.

An engine revved from outside of your apartment complex, loud enough to make you wince at the sound. Then, you got a text.

Butterflies formed in your stomach— an often occurrence when it came to Dabi. Despite him literally being your boyfriend, he never failed to make your stomach do cartwheels any time you even thought about being around him. Your thumbs hovered over your phone, thinking about what to say.

Within seconds, the man hearted your message, as if he was waiting on the chat for you to respond. Your heart fluttered as you shot up from your spot on the couch, rushing to your bedroom to find something to wear.

After an eternity of searching and creating a mess of clothes on your floor, you had found the perfect outfit. You grabbed your phone and left your apartment, locking the door on your way out.

The elevator ride down to the first floor felt 50 years longer than normal— which was both good and bad; good because you got time to calm your stupid nerves, and bad because you didn’t want to wait to see your boyfriend any longer. As soon as you heard the “ding!”, indicating that the elevator had reached the bottom floor, you practically charged out of the building, looking for Dabi’s car.

There it was, the navy blue Camaro ZL1– bass bumping and engine roaring. That was definitely him. You hurried to the passenger door. Dabi rolled down his tinted windows. His cyan eyes seemingly glowed in the streetlight and you swore you were being seduced.

“Gonna get in?” His slightly raspy voice broke the silence.

You carefully opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. Dabi looked at you, awaiting something. You gave him a slightly confused look, likely muddied by the darkness of the night.

“Well? Where’s my kiss, huh?” He asked you, a hint of impatience sewn into his tone. You giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek. He huffed, apparently not satisfied.

“What was that about?” You asked him.

“Nothin’.” The white haired man brushed it off and tossed you his phone. “You’re on aux.” He told you, you put on one of your favorite playlists— one that consisted of erotic songs. When you pressed the shuffle button, Poison by Brent Faiyaz began playing.

As the song began, Dabi shifted gears from neutral to drive and carefully pulled away from the cramped street.

His caution didn’t last long, though. As soon as he was out of the packed road, he sped up. His engine revved loudly as he did so and he moved his hand from the stick shift to the knob of the radio. He turned the knob to the right, making the music louder. After adjusting it to his liking, he rested his free hand on your thigh. His other was controlling the wheel, though his attention wasn’t fully on it. He was occupied with you. He watched as you hung your head slightly out of the open window, wind blowing your hair out of your face and giving him a perfect view of your features.

How can a singular human being be so flawless?

The man was enamored by you. In his eyes, you were a spectacle. A trophy that he, somehow, had won. And goddamn, was he proud of his trophy.

You looked to see him staring right back at you, making butterflies erupt yet again. In order to hide your fluster, you snapped your fingers at him.

“Eyes back on the road, Dabi.” He hummed in response and looked forward. You faced towards the window again, feeling the cool air on your cheeks. Dabi sped up as the song ended and the next one played. Slow Dancing in the Dark by Joji.

As the engine of his car became white noise, you asked Dabi where you were going.

“Dunno,” He said nonchalantly. “Just driving.” You couldn’t help but smile at Dabi’s voice. You’d play it on repeat if you could.

You began singing along to the radio, making Dabi chuckle. He joined in quietly, unintentionally harmonizing with you.

“Can’t you see? I don’t want to slow dance,” The two of you sang. “In the dark.”

The song continued and you two made conversation, talking about your days and how the two of you missed each other.

“Sorry ‘m so busy, babe.” He apologized. “A lot’s going on with the League right now.” You accepted his apology, because truthfully, that didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here, with you, in this moment.

The conversation carried on for another 20 minutes, and by now, you were out of the city. Flat, dark farmland stretched out as far as the eye could see. You looked up at the sky from your window— without the light pollution, everything was darker, causing the stars to shine brighter. You stared in awe for a moment at the gorgeous things, mesmerized.

Dabi, finally out of city limits, sped up to 160. You could feel your stomach drop as he sped up. You rolled your window up and said, “Dabi, slow down.” The man smirked.

“Why, ya scared?” He sped up to 180 in a matter of seconds.

“Yes, I am!” You retorted. He pouted mockingly.

“Awh, poor thing.” 185. You smack his arm lightly, making him laugh once more. He finally slowed down. Then, he patted his lap, confusing you slightly. “Well? C’mon.”

“Yeah, right.” You rolled your eyes at him. “While you’re driving?”

“What??” He asks, trying to sound innocent. “I mean it. C’mere.” His eyes were still fixated on the road.

Slightly awkwardly, you crawled over the center console and into his lap— your back was against the door and your head facing his. You smelled his cologne, a hint of vanilla and cinnamon.

Playfully, you dug your nose into the crook of his neck, trying to breathe in all of his scent. He smiled. “You’re ticklin’ me, Y/N.”

“I can’t help it,” you said with your head still buried. “You smell so good!” Another laugh was shared and it was quiet for the moment, the two of you relishing in one another’s peace. That’s when you got your grand idea.

You were going to tease him.

You planted a light kiss on his collarbone, and then another on his neck, and then another on his jaw. You continued this pattern for a minute or two, giving all of your attention to his neck and jaw. Once you seemed to be done, he looked down owards you, expecting you to kiss his lips, but you didn't. Instead, you kissed his cheek and went back to breathing in his scent.

“Y/N.” He said quietly.

“Hm?”

“My lips.” It was as if he thought you forgot, as if he was reminding you; you didn’t forget, though. You smiled semi-mischievously, realizing he hadn’t picked up on your teasing.

You looked up at him again and acted as though you were going to kiss him. To catch him off guard, you paused right before you did so and pecked the corner of his mouth. His face morphed from content to annoyance.

“What?” You tried to sound pure and innocent, as if you didn’t know what you were doing.

“You know what. Kiss my lips.” You couldn’t hide your smirk as he spoke. He almost sounded needy, like he had to have you kiss his lips. You pretended to think for a second. Then, you kissed the corner of his mouth again. He leaned into you this time, trying to make you kiss his lips, but to no avail. You dodged his efforts and continued to pepper smooches everywhere but his mouth.

Dabi groaned, eyeing you with an even more annoyed look than before.

“I don’t want to beg, Y/N, kiss my lips.” He almost demanded. “Not my neck, not my cheek, my lips.” You let out a laugh.

“But it’s so fun when you beg!”

“It’s not fun for me..” He grumbled. You almost felt bad, like you were actually doing something wrong by not kissing him on the mouth— not that that would stop you. When you wanted to do something, you were determined. And that something just so happened to be riling up your boyfriend.

So, you continued kissing him, getting ever so close to his mouth just to pull away at the last second. You could tell Dabi was getting frustrated, and that just made the experience all the more enjoyable. After a few more failed attempts of trying to make out with you, Dabi sighed loudly and sped up his vehicle once again.

“You are such a brat.” He hissed. “Stop teasing me.”

“Why? Is it working?”

“No— ‘ts not working. Cut it out.” Dabi denied.

“Seems like it is..” You mumbled to yourself.

“Only thing it’s doing is pissing me off.” You smiled smugly and cupped his face in your hand.

“Awh, I’m sorry baby.” You mocked his tone from earlier. Finally, you slowly kissed his lips, this time not pulling away.

Dabi leaned into you, perhaps more needily than he intended. He was starving for your touch. Your soft lips on his. His tongue easily slid into your mouth, intertwining with yours.

This man was yearning for you. You knew he wanted you, but damn, you didn’t know he wanted you this badly.

Your hands ran through Dabi’s surprisingly soft hair, massaging his scalp slightly. He was upset he couldn’t give you all of his undivided attention, what with also having to focus on the road. So, he did what any horny guy would do. He pulled over to the side of the road and effortlessly shifted your hips so now you were straddling him.

“Think it’s time to get you back for what you did, love.” He sighed almost maliciously. You were in for a ride, and you had no one to blame but yourself.

🏷️’s : @rueclfer , @seneon !

Both r so huggable (cap bakugo aint) but I can imagine myself running to hug shoto🥰

i still cant get over this shit

Justice for my man. They turned him into a horny body pillow.

Whenever any of the todoroki brothers come on screen I always stare at their waist. Like it's obvious they got it from enji but there's those males like katsuki who has snatched waist but them.... It's so sexy I want to devour them like LOOK HOLY MOLY THE SLIM PARALLEL WAIST⁉️ I absolutely have no words to describe what it does it me. I either want to make them pregnant or crawl inside their shirt and never come out idkidk

💔💔

i still cant get over this shit

Justice for my man. They turned him into a horny body pillow.

I'll swerve the car hard with him in it😛😛

Loser

DIVAAAA

gyaru mina on paint

OH MY GOD THIS IS SO GOOD WHY IS IT SO UNDERRATEDDDD

swapped! (todoroki x reader)

summary: after you get hit with a strange quirk, you swap bodies with your long time crush and hero partner todoroki shouto. somehow, every single thing that could possibly go wrong goes wrong and chaos ensues. idea dump here

genre/content warnings: afab reader, reader has some sort of telekinesis quirk for plot efficiency (i got lazy sorry), suggestive, periods, reader is implied to have a heavy flow but it's really just for the plot to ensure maximal crack, mentions of blood, swearing, fluff, crack, todoroki is a little shit (when is he not)

wc: 5.9k (oopsies this is my longest fic to date)

note: this is for @andypantsx3's pretty boy summer collab! (sorry it's late andie) it is also one of my sponsored fics for @ficsforgaza's fundraiser! i couldn't fit all the scenes i wanted into the fic without ruining the flow, so go check them out and sponsor them if you want to read more! also everyone needs to go say thank you to @thelov3lybookworm for giving me the push i needed to stop making excuses and find solutions so i could post. thanks girl <3

i'm not sure how i feel about the ending, but i think it's as good as it's going to get! since i haven't written in a little while and things have been tough, likes, reblogs, and comments would be so so appreciated, and will help me get the next fic on my list done faster!!!

blog navigation | bhna masterlist | extras!

The first thing you notice when you finally emerge from the depths of your slumber is how comfortable you were. Everything feels just right, your pillows are cool against your neck, and your sheets hold the perfect amount of warmth; enough to keep you cozy, but not so hot that your sweat is creasing the silky sheets and making you feel sticky and gross.

The second thing you notice is the very large, very male hand sprawled on the pillow next to your head. A deep male voice lets out a surprised cry as you jerk back, the hand moving with you.. It takes you several moments to realize that it had come from you. 

Your bare feet thump against the wood paneled floor as you stumble out of bed disoriented and realize where you are for the first time. Namely, not in your bedroom.

Glancing around in confusion, you wonder what the hell happened, and how you ended up somewhere so nice.. The space itself is fairly bare, but you can tell that all of the furniture inhabiting it is expensive. From the sleek wooden dresser to the geometric modern light fixtures to the insanely high thread count of the sheets, everything screams tasteful luxury. 

Where are you? You definitely feel asleep in your own bedroom. Reaching up you rake your hair out of your face and freeze. Instead of the familiar texture and length of your own hair, you’re greeted with short, silky soft strands that definitely did not belong to you.

Mussing your hair to make sure you’re not imagining things, you glance down, and for the first time notice some inexplicable things.For one, the ground is a lot farther away than it normally is, and for two, last time you checked you did not have washboard abs, or a male anatomy.

The entire situation was confusing, and you were still slightly sleep-addled. Despite that you knew that you needed to find a mirror. A quick glance around the room located one in the corner and you hurry over to it. 

Sliding to a stop you grip the edges of the little stand, frost spreading from your right hand to cover the wood while you gaped at your appearance.

Intense heterochromatic eyes stared back at you, shock filling them. Your hair was a unique mess of red and white strands, the two colors mussed with sleep. With those distinctive features, plus high chiseled cheekbones, a jawline that could cut stone and a slim yet unfairly muscular body there was no doubt about it.

You were Todoroki Shouto. At least, that’s whose body you’re currently inhabiting. His very shirtless body. 

BZZZZZT BZZZZZZT

Saved from having to fight your urges to poke at his abs by the noise, you jump, swinging your gaze around in search of the origin.

BZZZZZZT BZZZZZZT

A simple black phone flashes on the otherwise empty nightstand (does he seriously not even have a lamp??), the caller i.d. sending you scrambling across the room to the phone. 

Fumbling in your haste, you manage to swipe and pick up the incoming call from your cell phone.

Your mind is racing a mile a minute. There were only two ways to get into your phone. The first was the password, but even you forgot it most of the time. It sat safely tucked away on a post it in the safe you store all of your important documents in. The second was through face i.d. and the only person who could unlock your phone with their face was you. And since you were in his body, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to assume that he….Lifting the phone to your ear you speak hesitantly.

“Todoroki? Is that you?”

“Y/N?”

It was unnerving to hear your voice saying your name from the other end of the phone,

“What happened?!” You’re a little mortified to hear the hysteria lacing your words, but you can feel the panicked adrenaline flooding your veins as your body goes into fight or flight.

“I believe that the quirk we got hit with yesterday caused us to switch bodies. However, it is highly unlikely that it is permanent so it will be fine.” Even though it’s your voice, something about knowing Todoroki is on the other end was reassuring enough that some of the tension bled from your shoulders.

“That’s good.” You sigh, rubbing your face. There’s a mildly uncomfortable throbbing coming from your lower half, and you absentmindedly reach down to rub at it, forgetting you weren’t in your own body. Brushing against a bump in your gray sweatpants, you shiver as a familiar feeling spreads through your lower stomach and something twitches.

“Todoroki?” Your voice suddenly gets a little higher, the hint of hysteria from before returning to the normally deep monotone. “We have a problem.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?” 

Ignoring his questions, you stare in growing horror at the very obvious tent in the front of the sweatpants you were wearing. You have no idea how you didn’t notice it earlier, but now that you’ve seen what’s going on down there you can’t help but be extremely aware of the uncomfortable pressure. 

“Y/N? Please explain what’s going on. I’m growing concerned.”

“I-” You splutter, unable to form a coherent sentence. Finally you gather your wits enough to say something. “It’s uh, it’s hard.”

“What do you mean? What’s hard? Oh...” He trails off into embarrassed silence.

“OH?” You can’t handle this. “What do you mean ‘oh?!’ Do something!”

“Like what?” He sounds a little defensive. “What am I supposed to do from here?”

“I don’t know!” You’re shouting now. “But you have to do something! How am I supposed to sit here with your massive boner?!”

There’s a loud crash on the other end of the phone, and you jump. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” He answers a little too quickly, but his voice still retains his usual impassivity. “Anyways, returning to the problem at hand. It will go away on its own after a little while. Unless you would rather handle it yourself-”

“No!” You wince as you practically shout into the phone. “I mean, no it's okay. I feel like that would be unprofessional.”

You can hear the amusement in his voice as he responds. “I feel like this entire situation is rather unprofessional. After all, I did see your breasts this morning.”

There must be something wrong with your hearing because there’s no way he just said what you thought he did. In such a nonchalant manner at that. “Wha-What?” Embarrassingly your voice cracks as you rack your brain, frantically searching through your memories of the night before. Then it hits you. 

“You went to bed without pants, a shirt, and a bra last night.” He informs you matter of factly, and you must be going crazy because there’s no way that that’s smugness you’re picking up from him. “Judging from the temperature of your apartment I’d say that your air conditioning is broken. You should probably get that fixed.”

You’ve completely forgotten about the boner you’re currently sporting due to the mortification of it all. Of course the one time the two of you switch bodies it just has to be the day your AC broke and you went to bed in nothing but a pair of striped cotton undies.

A small part of you mourns that you weren’t wearing something sexier, but the larger part of you is screaming that he is your boss. Sure you’ve been friends for years, and you have a not so little crush on him, but you are his subordinate. This was going to make things so awkward in the office. Hopefully once this is all over you can go hunt someone with a memory erasing quirk down to wipe his mind. But maybe not yours. You kind of want to remember the toned planes of his abs and the impressive bulge in his sweats. 

Giving yourself a shake you chastise your internal voice. Absolutely not. That would be an invasion of his privacy. In fact, you should put on a shirt right this second to respect his privacy, not that he didn’t walk around with half of his hero suit burned off from time to time. Wait. A thought suddenly occurs to you.

“Wait. You have a shirt on now, right? You put on a shirt before calling me.” You laugh nervously, because of course he has more common sense than that. It’s not like he would just sit on the phone with you while your tits were hanging out, right? Right??

“Well no.” Your heart falls out of your ass and you accidentally sear a handprint into the edge of his nightstand at his casual answer. “It’s uncomfortably warm in here and without the use of my quirk I am unable to regulate my body's temperature. Aside from that, I don’t know where you keep your shirts so I prioritized calling you to discuss the situation over going through your personal belongings.

That all sounds perfectly reasonable and you would have fallen for it except for one little thing. “Todoroki. I know for a fact that I was too lazy to put my laundry away yesterday and there is a stack of clean t-shirts sitting on the end of my bed right now.” 

You hear rustling -is he still in your bed?!- as he leans forwards to check. “Oh. You’re correct. My apologies.” There’s more rustling and the sound of fabric sliding over skin as he pulls a t-shirt over his head. “It’s on now.”

“Thank you.” You pointedly ignore the fact that he did not sound the tiniest bit apologetic, filing it away to revisit later. For now, the two of you need to discuss what to do next. “I appreciate it. What’s the plan now though? I think we should meet at the agency as soon as possible and go from there.” 

“I agree.” He seems to lack the sense of urgency currently consuming you as he hums in agreement. It’s incredibly annoying. “We should probably give each other directions on what to do, and where to find the things we need.”

On second thought maybe it’s better that he’s calm and thinking clearly because that was an excellent idea. “That’s smart. I keep a pad of paper and a pen on my nightstand to jot down reminders if you want to use that. Where do you keep your paper?”

“Check my bookshelf.” The telltale sound of paper flipping told you that he found the notepad as you crossed the room and stopped in front of the simple wooden bookcase. “Where is it on your bookshelf?”

“I think I keep a notebook and a pad of paper on the middle shelf.” He sounds distracted and a little uncertain, but when you stoop down to check (it’s weird being this tall) you find a simple yellow legal pad and a black pen. “I got it.” 

“Okay.” The sound of a book closing accompanies his words and there’s a hint of some unidentifiable emotion lacing the two-syllables. 

Not thinking much of it you shrug it off, sitting down down at his desk and listening as he tells you where keeps his car keys, hero suit, and other necessities. You ask a few follow up questions, jotting down what cabinet he keeps his cologne and deodorant in, before launching into your own instructions.

“The first thing you need to do is start the coffee machine. Trust me. My body will not be happy unless you give it at least three cups of coffee or like two big energy drinks before 9 am. Next…” After you’re sure he has understood the importance of caffeine, you move on, explaining where you keep your clothes, car keys, and shoes, as well as where you parked your car. 

“Don’t worry about makeup or hair products or anything while you’re getting me ready. I know there’s a lot on my bathroom counter but it’s not necessary. But you do need to go into the first drawer on your left when you’re standing at the sink and grab my anxiety meds. They should be in an orange prescription bottle. Only take one. And please for the love of god do not forget to put a bra on. You got all that?”

“I believe so. Is there a specific outfit you want me to wear or should I just choose?” You stop and think. Left to his own devices there’s no knowing what he might put you in (his first hero costume proof of his abysmal sense of fashion) so it would be best to give him some guidance. “Could you just wear a casual sweater and some jeans?” 

“Yes. Let’s get ready and meet at the agency in about an hour. If that works for you.” There’s not much writing on the yellow legal pad, the black scrawl of your handwriting barely taking up half a page. Okay. It isn’t that much. You can do this. “That sounds good to me.”

“Oh, I also think it might be best if we kept this from the general employees at the agency for the time being just to reduce drama. Is that okay with you?” 

“Of course.” More than okay actually. Some of them were aware of your not-so-little crush on him, so it would spare you some teasing and interrogation.

There’s a couple seconds of awkward silence, and you get the feeling he wants to say something more, the tension crackling through the speaker of his stupidly expensive phone. Opening your mouth, you start to say something then realize you don’t really have anything to say. The awkward silence persists a couple seconds longer before he wishes you goodbye and hangs up.

Click. Click. Click. Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick. You didn’t even realize that you had started clicking the pen open and closed, a nervous habit of yours. Sheepishly you place the pen down on his desk and stand. Sure the vibes were kind of weird at the end there, but it’s not like anything worth making you nervous happened. The situation might not be ideal, but it wasn’t the biggest deal in the world. You could handle it. The worst part was already over. You just had to meet him at the agency, figure out what to do with the rest of the day, and wake up in your own body tomorrow. Piece of cake.

Gaping in horror, you realize that this was not, in fact, going to be a piece of cake. 

Getting ready had been easy enough so you had arrived at the agency a few minutes before your agreed meeting time, which fortunately/unfortunately put you in the perfect position to witness the walking shitshow.

You had been idly sipping at a cup of coffee, marveling at how many packets of sugar it had taken to make it acceptable to his taste buds when he staggered in, catching the eye of pretty much everyone in the lobby.

Hunched over weirdly, he staggered in, wearing a pair of jeans that rode just a little too low to be professional and a very white, very sheer white shirt that was meant to be layered over an undershirt. Or, at the very least, with a sturdy, modest bra underneath.

Alas, you can only stare in abject horror at the sight of what everyone else would assume was you stumbling in, your nipples visible from across the room, the bra that should have been on your body clasped in one hand. 

You’re pretty sure you disassociated for a few seconds from sheer mortification, standing there unmoving for several seconds. Once you had processed (and gone through the seven stages of grief multiple times) you were bolting across the floor, seizing his (your?) arm and dragging him down the hall and into the family bathroom where no one could see.

Slamming the door shut behind you, you shove Todoroki/yourself into the small space, wincing as you watch him stumble in your body. Did you always seem this weak and small in his eyes? The sound of the lock clicking as you shut the door reminds you of the current situation and you turn on him, rage emanating from every pore of your being.

“I. Thought. I. Told. You. To. Put. On. A. Bra.” You’re hurt, and seriously pissed off, neatly trimmed nails digging into your thighs as you grip your pants. Humiliation courses through your body, pulsing behind your eyes in tears that you will not let fall, no matter what. “Is this some kind of joke? Are you trying to embarrass me-”

“No.” It’s disconcerting watching yourself speak and move, but subtle mannerisms remind you that it’s Todoroki you’re looking at, not yourself in the mirror. “I wouldn’t do that to you, I swear.”

“Then what is this?” You wave your hand at your body, flinching at what others must be whispering about you. “Do you want people to think I’m some sort of crazy person who goes around practically flashing people at their workplace? Someone who has no sense of decency?”

“Of course not.” His tone is as even as ever, but you can tell that he feels bad. “People here know what type of person you are. I’m sure they’re more concerned than anything.”

The fabric of his blue hero suit unscrunches as your hands drop to your sides, chest heaving as you take a deep breath. “I hope so.”

There’s vulnerability in your voice, and for a second you find peace in the quiet of the moment before he ruins it. “Besides, I’m more worried about my reputation than yours right now.”

You look up indignantly. “Why? I did everything you asked, and I’m fully dressed so I’m not sure why you’re complaining.”

He winces as your voice raises (maybe the coffee hasn’t kicked in yet) but he hides it quickly. “I mean, from their point of view, they just watched me forcibly drag my subordinate off and locked myself in a bathroom with her. They probably have all sorts of unseemly ideas about what I’m doing right now.”

You freeze. Shit. You hadn’t even considered what it would look like to the others. “I’m so sorry. We can explain this to everyone. Like you told me, everyone here also knows you, and that you would never do anything inappropriate.” 

“It’s fine.” He gives you a genuine, yet slightly strained smile. “I’m not too concerned. However, your body doesn’t feel great.”

‘What’s wrong?” You reach out and touch his forehead. “You don’t have a fever.” Glancing down, you sigh. “First things first let's make you decent. You literally brought the bra. Why aren’t you wearing it?”

“The best way I can describe it is it’s similar to the time I accidentally ate Bakugou’s extra spicy curry, except it’s not in my stomach. It’s more in my abdomen. And I meant to wear it, I just couldn’t figure out how to get it on.”

“Okay. I can help with that.” You motion for him to lift his arms. “Take off your shirt.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Is now really the time?” The bathroom is silent as you give him a death look. “It’s my body. There is quite literally nothing about the body you are currently inhabiting that I do not already know about. Now, shirt. I’ll help put the bra on.”

Understanding that you were not in the mood, he hurriedly pulls the shirt off, and you’re presented with the sight of your bare torso. Ignoring the strange intimacy of the moment (it was literally your own body you had no idea why you felt weird) you help him slip his arms into the straps, then motion for him to turn around. 

He complies, and that’s when you see it. The relatively small, but somewhat noticeable stain on your crotch in the back of your pants. That’s why he wasn’t feeling good. Your body started your period.

The clasp of the bra dangles in your hands as you stare at it, evaluating your choices. One. You could pretend like nothing is happening but chances are he’s going to have to pee at some point during the day so he’ll find out eventually. Plus the stain wasn’t small.

Two. Be the mature, rational adult you are and calmly explain the situation. After all, there was nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a perfectly normal, perfectly natural, biological function that comes with being a female.

And three. Just leave and go crawl into your bed until this nightmare is over. Let him deal with it himself. 

Option number three was looking pretty good there for a moment and you were calculating how fast you could escape the agency without drawing attention when Todoroki spoke. 

“Everything okay? Why aren’t you doing the hook things?” Snapping out of your trance, you clumsily clasp the back, taking several tries to get all the hooks in the same row. Patting it, you tell him to put the shirt back on before taking a deep breath. “Hey, Todoroki?”

Wisps of hair emerge from the neckline of your shirt, followed closely by your head as he pops into your shirt. “Yes?”

“So like, it’s going to be okay and I swear I’ll help you and I’m sorry you have to deal with this but please whatever you do, don’t freak out. Promise?” He tilts his head slightly, regarding you with confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but if you say it’ll be okay I don’t see why I would feel the need to freak out.”

His calm response puts you somewhat at ease, and you just rip the bandaid off. “My body just started it’s period. With you in it. That’s why your abdomen was hurting. It was period cramps. Don’t worry, I’ll get you some advil soon. There’s a small stain on the back of your pants, but it’s not bad yet. However, it’s really heavy on my first day so we’re going to need to get a tampon in and a pad on asap.”

A blank stare is your only response. “What…is a tampon? And what does heavy mean? Also, does it always hurt this bad?” A small furrow appears between his brows, and you can tell he’s overthinking.

“Normally it’s only this bad for a few days, but I’m used to it by now.” You reassure him, grabbing a tampon and pad from the free dispenser on the wall. “And to answer your question, a tampon is basically a fancy roll of material that goes up there and absorbs the blood.”

You’re doing your best to remain calm and unbothered on the outside, but on the inside you’re losing your mind because there was absolutely no way that you were about to teach your crush how to insert a tampon into your cooch because you managed to swap bodies on the worst possible day.

He looks at you pensively as you approach him with the hygiene products. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

You pause, considering. How did you want to do this? It would be weird for you to put it in yourself, even if it was your body. The packaging crinkles in your hands as you turn the items over in your hand. The easiest route would be to have him just put the pad on, but you also didn’t want him to deal with the mess and discomfort of sitting in a pad. 

“Alright.” You clap your hands, the sharp sound echoing off the clean linoleum floors. “We’ll get a pad on first, then we’ll try the tampon. Ready?”

“Yes. How do I do that?” Okay. You can explain this. It’s not that complicated. “First things first, pull down your pants and underwear and sit on the toilet.”

A rustle of clothing and the click of the toilet seat against the porcelain bowl told you he had complied. “Wait, but like, don’t look okay. Keep your eyes averted.”

“Understood.” You choose to ignore the amusement in his voice, instead grabbing another pad and giving him a demo. Feeling guilty about the waste, you rip open one of the packages and pull out the pad. It’s thick, and made of cheap material like all free pads in public bathrooms tended to be.

Holding it up so he can see you demonstrate peeling the tab and unfolding it before peeling the sticky back off and showing it to him. 

“Basically you just have to remove the covering and stick it to the bottom of your underwear. Make sense?”

He nods, so you pass him the pad and watch him carefully peel back the appropriate backings and smooth it into the center of your panties. His eyes gleam at you hopefully as he looks up, and when you tell him he did a good job you could have sworn he preened. 

“Good job Todoroki.” A subtle frown pulls at his lips. “So for the tampon-”

“Shouto.” He cuts you off, looking disgruntled. “Call me Shouto.”

“I-What?” Thrown off guard by the sudden demand request you blink at him. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to what’s going on right now, but you’re my boss. It doesn’t seem right for me to address you so casually.”

“But you call me Shouto while we’re at work.” He stubbornly refuses to give the point up, clinging to it like a dog with their chew toy. “How is it any different?”

“Because-” You give him an exasperated look. “Some idiot decided to make his hero name his first name, so when he’s at work his co-workers are forced to use it. I don’t call you Shouto as in Todoroki Shouto. I call you Shouto as in Pro-Hero Shouto. That’s the difference.”

“But we’ve known each other for years.” He’s very matter of fact, clearly missing the point. “I would say we’re close enough for first names.”

He’s unbelievable. Of all the things to focus on right now why on earth is he choosing to argue over how you address him? “Of course we’re close. I consider you a good friend. But I wouldn’t say we’re close enough where it’s appropriate for me to address you by your first name when you’re my boss.”

“I’m currently in a bathroom with you right now, in your body, sitting on a toilet with no pants, on your period. I don’t see how we can possibly get any closer.” He had a point, and you just wanted to get this whole disaster sorted out as quickly as possible so you conceded. “Fine. Shouto. Now, will you please listen to me so we can get this over with and go on with our day?”

Using demonstrative hand motions and trying not to show how flustered you were you explained how to put the tampon in. Finally you finish, and hand him a tampon. He unwraps it, then hunches over in an awkward position trying to see what he was doing.

A red flush crawls up your neck as he quite literally examines your pussy, your insecurities running rampant, thoughts you’ve never had before occurring. Like, what if it looks weird? You didn’t exactly have a huge frame of reference, and all of your past experiences were horny hookups so you literally had no idea what it looked like from his point of view. He was probably repulsed by it. If everything that already happened hadn’t ruined any chance you had with him this was the final nail in the coffin.

A quiet splash cuts through the silence of the bathroom, interrupting your downward spiral. Looking up, you lock eyes with Todoroki, who’s frozen guiltily on the toilet.

“What just happened?”

“I, er, well I’m not sure.” Your eyes narrow. “What was the splash?”

“I did my best.” He sounds defensive. “I had a hard time finding…it…and it’s not easy to line it up and I think I did it wrong because as soon as I put it in it kind of just…spat it back out?”

Gaping at him, you’re at a loss for words before a loud, unflattering cackle rips itself out of your chest. The self-consciousness caused by the strangeness of the moment and being in the presence of your crush fading away as you reverted to treating him like you did in high school.

“Oh-Oh my god!” You’re doubled over, almost crying with how hard you’re laughing. “You can’t find it. You can’t even find the hole. You must be so popular with the ladies.”

As you laugh, a strange sensation builds in your stomach, and next thing you know it feels like you’re getting sucked into a vacuum and shot out the other end. Your vision goes black and fuzzy, the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom hurting your eyes when you finally open them.

When you finally open them and find yourself staring into the unimpressed face of one Todoroki Shouto that is. 

Seeing his face again instead of staring at yours is a relief, but it’s also unfortunate because now you are the one perched on the toilet, your pants hanging around your ankles and a tampon floating around in the toilet water beneath you. 

The two of you lock eyes, and you realize that now you’ve both returned to your own bodies it’s even worse that he’s seeing you half naked (don’t ask you why it just is somehow. Maybe it has something to do with him seeing it from his point of view instead of yours?). 

Embarrassment floods your face, and you yell at him to turn around, hurriedly grabbing another tampon and putting it in before using your quirk to retrieve the tampon from the toilet and dumping it into the trash. A rushed tug has your pants back on, and the two of you stand in the bathroom not moving or speaking. Finally you break the silence.

“Uh, well, anyways. I’m glad this all worked out, sorry for the inconvenience and how weird it was. I’m going to head home and enjoy my day off now. Have a nice day!”

Not giving him the chance to respond, you dart past him and out the door, ignoring him as he calls your name. Yeah right. Have a nice day? More like have a nice life. There was no way you could ever show your face around him again. Maybe you could call Kyoka up and ask her if she needed a new hero at the agency she shared with Denki.

Unfortunately, life doesn’t always go as planned, and you wake up the next morning to your phone buzzing. You called in sick the night before, partially because your cramps were really bothering you, and partially because you were avoiding Todoroki. 

Blearily, you roll over, pawing at your phone before lifting it to your ear. “Hello?”

“Good morning.” Immediately recognizing the smooth, deep voice belonging to none other than the one man you were actively trying to avoid, you do the only logical thing and hang up immediately. 

A couple seconds later your phone rings again, and this time you let it go to voicemail. The sharp trill of your ringtone reaches you through the pillow you pressed over your head, alerting you that he called several more times after that. Finally the calls stop, and you emerge from under the pillows, beating back the strange sense of disappointment rising in your chest.

Ping!

The sound of your phone chiming startles you, causing you to drop it. Picking it back up, you check your notifications with bated breath.

(1) New Message From: Todoroki Shouto

Scared to read the message, you hesitate to click on it, having no idea what to expect. Your thumb hovers over the banner, the light washing over your skin as you work up the courage to check it.

Ping!

Your phone lands on your carpet with a plop as you accidentally drop it over the edge of your bed, not expecting it to go off again.

Ping! Ping!

Cautiously, you poke your head over the edge of your bed, glancing down at the illuminated lock screen. You let out an internal screech of horror.

(4) New Messages From: Todoroki Shouto

Unable to deal with the agony of not knowing what he said any longer, you scoop your phone up and tap the notification, scanning the messages, your heart dropping further and further the more you read.

Todoroki Shouto: Did you just hang up on me?

I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes. Do you want anything?

*image attached*

Also: are these the chocolates you’re fond of? I asked my mother and sister and they told me they enjoy chocolate when they are menstruating. 

Those are, in fact, your favorite chocolates, but as much as you wanted them you wanted him at your apartment in fifteen minutes even less. The sound of aggressive tapping filled your room as you typed out a response at breakneck speed, praying to whatever was out there that he wouldn’t actually come to your place.

You: Good morning Todoroki-San. I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize it was you and hung up because I was half asleep. It’s sweet of you to think of me, but those are expensive. Also, I’m taking the day off today so is there any possible way the matter you have to discuss could wait until tomorrow? Thanks!

A couple seconds after you hit send, the little label beneath the message changed from “delivered” to “read.” Then radio silence. Anxiety bubbles up in the pit of your stomach? What does read mean? Did he agree with you? Is he still coming? Too drained to deal with the emotional turmoil this was causing you, you rolled over and pulled your covers up over your head. This was a problem for future you.

Drifting off, you were awakened a short time later by your phone chiming once, then again a few minutes later, and the sound of your doorbell ringing. Surely it wasn’t…Half-closing your eyes to shield against the harsh glow of your phone, you unlock it.

(2) New Messages From: Todoroki Shouto

Todoroki Shouto: I’m here. Open your door.

I didn’t want to tell you over text, but you aren’t responding. Bakugou says I have romantic feelings for you and I think he is correct. He also said you’ve been “a mooney-eyed moron” for me since we were in high school. If that is true and you do feel the same way, please let me in. I would like to see you and care for you while you are on your cycle.

Three dots appear, signaling that he’s typing. A couple seconds later, your phone chimes again, not even giving you a moment to process the previous messages.

Todoroki Shouto: Our former classmates also unanimously agreed that I am, in fact, popular with the ladies. I’ll forgive your comment if you let me in. The old lady who lives next door to you is giving me suspicious looks. 

You blink. Rub your eyes. Squint closer at your screen. The words didn’t change, and neither did their meaning. And Todoroki wasn’t the type of person to joke around like this. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, and your pulse thundered in your ears as you realized there was only one thing left to do.

You had to get out of bed and let him into your apartment.

taglist: @arlerts-angel @ponderingmoonlight @hotvinimon

as always, please please please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from any of my taglists. tysm for reading, and i hope you enjoyed it!!

plsplsplsplsplspslpslpslpslsplsplsplspls

A few months into your relationship, Shouto catches on to your weird behavior around his apartment.

“I don’t want to ruin anything,” you finally admit when he notes his observation—about how you tiptoe around his living room of designer furnishings, how you never seem to settle comfortably into his couch, how you carry his glassware with all the pomp and ceremony of an Olympic torch.

“They are just things. This is a home,” Shouto says, like that at all negates the fact that you could break a single one of his salad bowls and spend the rest of your life repaying the debt.

“Hella expensive things in a very nice home,” you reply. “I am not falling asleep and accidentally drooling onto your ten bajillion dollar couch, Shouto.”

Only the tiniest of creases between his brows tell you he’s displeased. “I would like you to be comfortable here. I do mean that they are just things.”

You shake your head. Shouto can be as unfussed as he wants, on his pro hero salary with his fat inheritance slapped on top like a dollop of cream on life’s richest slice of pie. But you were raised in a hand-me-down home, furniture and housewares either inherited or thrifted from generations past, and you are not about to play any kind of game that would leave his couch as worn down as your family’s ancient, squashy sofa with the tears hidden on the undersides of the cushions.

“I’m good, Sho,” you say reassuringly. “I’m just going to take my best care of your things.” You pat his couch ever so lightly for emphasis, so gently it almost doesn’t make a sound.

Shouto watches you for a long moment. His eyes pick over you carefully, and he says nothing, until finally his expression shifts. 

You watch with suspicion as his face suddenly goes meticulously blank, and you realize you know that look. It’s the perfectly unreadable poker face that almost always precedes peak little shit behavior.

“Whatever thought you are having is a million percent no from me,” you say quickly, but Shouto’s hand is already closing over your thigh, tugging you closer to him across the luxurious fabric of the very couch you have tried never to crease.

“Shouto, do not fuck with this couch,” you tell him as the material of your pants makes a fwip across the sofa fabric. Shouto arches a perfect brow at you.

“If you will not believe me that I do not care about the state of this couch,” he pronounces evenly, “then I will just have to show you.”

Before you can even demand an explanation, he’s rearranging you to his liking, stretching out over you and pressing you down into the sofa with intent. 

Then it dawns on you exactly what he’s about to do.

“Wait, Sho—the bedroom—” you garble out, as your heart rate picks up into double time under his anchoring weight.

Shouto lowers his face to yours, mismatched eyes glittering like gemstones in the low light. “We’ll get there love,” he says, his low, soft tone shivering right up your spine. “But first, we’ll start here.”

His gaze grows heavier with promise, and a long-fingered hand skims up the side of your shirt. Your breathing stills. 

“I’m going to have you over every single surface in this apartment,” he says. “Again and again, love. Until you understand that there is only one thing in this house that I consider priceless.”

His mouth presses to yours, softly, as he shifts into the cradle of your thighs.

“And that,” he says against your mouth, sounding satisfied at the little shivery exhale this draws out of you, “that one, single priceless thing…is you.”

i'll hold this fic close to my heart also its so refreashing to see how people with no younger siblings react to seeing babies. its so normal to me and i find babies cute always, even though they're pieces of shit. its so cute seeing single children discover babies

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike. All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother, steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 5.7k | chapter 1 of 4

Then

It was a freezing day in spring the first time you set foot in the Todoroki house.

You had shared a class with Touya for years now, and in that time you’d become something of his best friend. You’d bonded early over a mutual hatred of fish and your status as the two best tree climbers on the playground—two integral friendship quality bars if ever you’d met them—and your entente had strengthened over the following months.

After enough time together Touya had even seemed to like you, seeking out your opinion, deploying you like a shield between himself and the other kids. He wanted to be paired with you for group projects constantly, as he seemed to disdain the ability of the other kids in your class.

He eventually acquiesced to two other friends—Rumi and Keigo—as Keigo was a really fast runner, and Rumi could kick a kid almost clear across a playground. But the two of you remained particularly close, and a few years in, Touya had seemed to want to check the final box of your friendship.

That was the day he’d haughtily informed you that you were coming home with him.

You’d phoned your mother from the school office to obtain permission, and then pulled your jacket on to follow Touya out into the cold, his skinny legs beating a quick path through the streets.

You’d half-expected that Touya lived in a box behind a shop, with the way he descended ravenously on his lunches (as well as yours, and Rumi’s, when he could occasionally get them—though notably not Keigo’s, something that had only retroactively made sense to you as an adult). But the house Touya steered you to was enormous—easily the biggest house you’d ever seen—a stately pile at the end of a fancy neighborhood.

You’d later learn this was because his father was the mayor, and the Todorokis were neck-deep in generational wealth. At the time you’d been mildly annoyed, because what had you let him eat part of your lunches for if he lived in a house like this?

“I’m home,” Touya had called into the echoey foyer, grand but strangely barren. He’d kicked off his coat and shoes, discarding them carelessly—perhaps purposefully—on the floor, then gestured for you to follow him into the kitchen as a warm voice called out to him. “Welcome home, Touya.”

“I brought Y/N,” he announced grandly as he prowled into the room. To you he said, “This is my mother, Rei.”

The voice you’d heard resolved itself into a woman, tall, with beautiful long white hair and a small, but unmistakably fond smile on her mouth. You startled, immediately floored by her beauty. She looked just like Touya, the same delicate prettiness to her mouth, the shape of her eyes—but even lovelier. She looked simultaneously like she belonged on the cover of a magazine, and would be embarrassed by one saying so.

She also smelled like an omega—sweet, but a little wilder than you were used to. Like spring flowers blooming on a cold day.

“Hello Y/N,” she said warmly, turning to you. You gave a shy wave back, suddenly nervous in front of her.

As she turned you finally noticed the child on her hip—a small, round, pudgy little thing with half red and half white hair, and two mismatched grey and blue eyes that pinned on you immediately. It was wearing a horrendous polkadot onesie, and you felt your eyebrows raise without your permission.

“That’s Shouto,” Touya informed you, and the pieces slotted together in your brain. Ah, so that was the face to the name.

Shouto was the little brother Touya complained about incessantly—the one that was his father’s favorite, the one that stared too much and wanted to play with all of Touya’s toys even though he was too little for them, the one Touya was saddled with babysitting constantly. He’d made Shouto out to be this sort of tiny harbinger of evil—but Shouto did not look very evil, perched there on his mother’s hip.

He blinked at you, a flutter of surprisingly long eyelashes, for a baby. You had the thought that actually he was kind of cute. Most probably not a harbinger of evil, and actually very sweet-looking, if weirdly round.

“I need to be excused from Shouto duty,” Touya said, the question posed more like a statement.

Rei shook her head, a somber little smile playing about her mouth. “I have to make dinner before Fuyumi and Natsuo get back from their playdates and your father gets home. Why don’t you take Shouto to play with you and Y/N?”

Touya rolled his eyes in the long-suffering manner of a man who’d endured it all. Shouto didn’t seem to notice, however, his mismatched gaze barely detaching from your face. You noticed Shouto’s left eye was the exact vivid blue of Touya’s, and his other eye the same silver as his mother’s.

“He’s staring like a weirdo,” Touya complained, but collected Shouto from Rei anyway. Shouto let himself be passed over as placidly as a bag of potatoes, still watching you.

“Y/N is a new face for him, he’s just curious, Touya,” Rei said, smoothing Shouto’s hair down as Touya hefted him in his arms. Shouto reached out a hand towards you, fat fingers flexing.

“What, you think I’m some taxi service who’s gonna bring you wherever you want to go?” Touya demanded. Shouto ignored him, his little chubby arm wavering.

Strangely, something compelled you to step closer, reaching out a hand in return. Shouto seized it in his pudgy little fist, staring up at you with solemn eyes. His other hand reached out to you, too, twisting in Touya’s grip, and Touya let out an annoyed scoff.

“Y/N didn’t come here to hang out with you,” he said. But Shouto ignored him, his little hand fisting in your tee shirt. He seemed to be trying to lever himself up out of Touya’s arms and into yours.

You were startled, never having held a baby before, and Shouto was kind of a big one. But Touya showed you how to hold him under his butt and across his back, and you heard the rustle of his diaper as he was handed off to you.

“Hi Shouto,” you said, watching him watch you.

His eyebrows raised, some small happiness lighting up his expression, and he gave a little kick that wiggled his whole body in your arms.

“He likes you,” Rei said over the counter top, as she settled a cutting board and a pile of vegetables across it.

You looked back at Shouto, feeling weirdly pleased. Maybe babies weren’t that bad.

Touya made an annoyed sort of grunt, stomping past you. “We’re going to play in the living room,” he announced imperiously. You glanced at Rei to make sure that was okay, then followed Touya, Shouto heavy in your arms.

By the time you arrived, Shouto had settled a hand on either of your cheeks and seemed to be trying to stare directly into your soul, and Touya patted him firmly on the back, clucking. “Stop being such a little freak.”

“He’s fine,” you said, bemused. No one had told you really little kids were this intense and weird. But Shouto’s little round face was kind of sweet, and it was hard to be annoyed at a baby staring up at you, that clearly enamored.

“Actually he’s being way nicer to me than you,” you told Touya.

Touya rolled his eyes and busied himself pulling out a horde of action figures, legos, puzzles, and games, as well as a turtle with multi-colored blocks set into it that appeared to be for Shouto.

“Oi, it’s turtle time, weirdo,” he told Shouto.

That seemed to break the baby’s singular focus on you, and he peered around, lighting up nearly the same way when he saw his blocks as he had when he’d seen you. You laughed, and helped him settle on the floor next to you, watching his clumsy, chubby grip fumble on the blocks as he carefully removed them one-by-one from the plastic turtle.

Touya set up the legos around you, an older parallel of his brother, though you thought he would kill you for saying so.

A block appeared in your lap, carefully and deliberately placed by a fat-fingered hand. You smiled down at Shouto, picking it up and gesturing grandly. “For me?”

A grey-and-blue gaze attached itself solemnly to your face, as if awaiting your judgment, and an instant fondness swept over you. Who knew babies could be this cute—when they weren’t screaming and crying and generally being small and annoying near you. Touya had massively undersold his little brother, who was the sweetest baby you’d ever encountered.

You bowed your head, clutching your gifted block close to you. “Thank you, Shouto. It’s very nice.”

Shouto stared up at you, smiling a shy little almost-smile, clearly pleased. You couldn’t help but reach up and ruffle that distinct tuft of hair, taken with him already. Yep, definitely a good little kid.

And you decided then and there that you liked Todoroki Shouto—though for now he was a child—you both were children—and he could only mean so much to you.

You wouldn’t realize how much he’d actually come to mean to you, until many, many years later.

Now

Touya’s white mess of hair was the first thing you spotted as you stumbled into the restaurant.

Outside it was unseasonably cold, an icy wind tearing through you as you’d rushed all the way from your mother’s house. The inside of the restaurant was blessedly warm, and slightly smoky from the meat and vegetables grilling away on each table top. Touya was on the far side, and you could see Rumi’s white hair beyond him, Keigo’s blonde riot of waves peeking over the top of the booth next to him.

Rumi faced the door so she spotted you first, a mouth-splitting grin overtaking her face as she waved you down.

You hurried your way over, letting out a surprised hrrk! when Rumi drew you down into a rib-crushing hug, her alpha strength barely contained. You fell into the seat at an awkward angle, your joints screaming.

“Well look what the cat dragged in! You don’t look a bit changed, you little beta cuck,” she crowed, making you choke on a laugh as you almost inhaled a mouthful of her hair.

“Rumi—!” you sputtered, half-pleased and half-scandalized that she clearly hadn’t changed in the years since you’d seen her last. She crushed you to her harder, and you could feel your eyeballs all but bulging like a rubber doll.

“If you plan to crush her to death you could at least wait until I clear the scene,” came Touya’s disaffected drawl from the other side of the table. “The last thing I need is police on my case again.”

That was so typical of him, too, after all this time.

“Good to see you too, Touya,” you said, even though you couldn’t get a look at him through Rumi’s hair. She ground her knuckles into the top of your head for good measure before releasing you, and you came up for air gratefully, watching the two men on the other side of the table grin at you.

Keigo looked exactly as you’d left him, a little bit more filled out than the skinny teen he’d been, the same wiry facial scruff growing in, those golden eyes alight with typical playfulness. Touya looked like he’d aged the most, his scars—fresher when you’d graduated—now deepened to the color of dark bruises. His features were still achingly familiar under them, however, the fine-boned prettiness of his mother shining through, his father’s blazing cerulean eyes the only nod to the other half of his parentage.

“So you really obeyed mommy dearest huh,” Touya said, pinning you with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes at him. As your closest childhood friend, he still knew all your weak spots, your mother the biggest of them. Growing up she’d been lonely and overworked, and you’d tried to care for her and please her the best you could. You still called her several times a week and sent back your wages to help pay for the house, and pay down the pile of debt your father had left her in when he’d died.

The concession of returning home for a few days to attend the annual mating run, as pointless as it was going to be, was the least you could do for her.

“You know as well as I do that no one is going to run down a beta,” you said, settling yourself in next to Rumi and shedding your coat and hat. “Especially not now that I’m well past newly-presented. It’ll be like a vacation.”

“You never know,” Keigo said, raising his fluffy eyebrows at you, his grin wicked. You flung the pile of your things across the table at him, but he intercepted easily, all alpha reflex. He stuffed your jacket down next to him, laughing at you.

“I do know,” you said emphatically. “And I’m not fussed about it. I don’t know who she thinks is going to pay her bills if I’m off getting dicked down by some knothead idiot.”

Touya made a dismissive noise and you looked around the table for something to fling at him too. He’d never had to worry about money, his future shored up with the Todoroki family fortune, built over generations and then basically quadrupled by his father. Since coming out of the correctional facility for a string of petty crimes, Touya had been skating by on family generosity, and you knew he wasn’t about to stop.

“Just burn her house down like mine,” he said, an unholy grin overtaking his face as he leaned forward. There was a light behind his eyes like he wasn’t entirely kidding. No one had ever been able to determine if the Todoroki family fire had been an accident or not, although Touya claimed it had been.

But you’d known Touya your whole life and you had your suspicions. Touya had hated his father for nearly all of your living memory—and the Todoroki men had an almost disturbing single-mindedness about them. You had long wondered if Touya’s fixation on his break with Enji had ever played into the fire that ravaged their house during your middle school years.

The one exception to the Todoroki single-mindedness was sweet little Shouto, who you’d last seen at your high school graduation. He was several years younger than you and had still been round-faced and chubby-cheeked then, all wide solemn eyes and pouty little mouth, just like when he was a baby.

You hadn’t seen him since, but couldn’t imagine Shouto turning out anything like Touya.

“I’ll take that under advisement,” you said to Touya, not liking how his grin widened.

Purportedly he’d come out of the correctional facility for good behavior, his record squeaky clean.

Purportedly.

“So why even agree to the run?” Rumi asked. “If you’re not looking to actually take anyone home?”

You helped yourself to the water that had been laid out before answering. “It’s just easier to appease my mother. She gets what she wants—some indication I’m open to my life mate-–and I get what I want, which is to be able to use this as an excuse next year.”

“Aww you won’t come back to see little old us?” Keigo asked. His tone was wheedling but his eyes tracked your expression carefully, always observing.

You smiled at him. You did miss your old friends, and you liked how easy it felt to sink right back into them after so many years away. You wanted to see them outside of the confines of a group chat or the rare facetime.

And you missed a lot about the town you’d grown up in. You liked the tiny storefronts of the downtown shops and the easy access to the coast and miles of hiking trails. You’d had a dream of opening up a little bookstore in one of the lovely brick buildings downtown when you were younger—but that was back before the staggering number of dollar signs on your mother’s bills had made themselves known to you and the romance of your daydream had begun to seem more like foolishness.

The bigger cities offered the bigger jobs, the bigger wages to send home. Even if it meant you could only see your friends every few years and mostly kept in touch via group chat.

“How about you guys come to me?” you asked. “There’s a chicken place I think Keigo will want to make the trip for.”

Keigo’s grin widened and he leaned in, interested. “Say no more,” he drawled.

On the table top, Touya’s phone vibrated. He peered at it, dismissing the notification with a swipe. “Rei wants to see you,” he reported, the usual blend of disrespect and unwilling fondness for his own mother layered in his voice. “She says you should come by the house.”

You smiled, pleased to be remembered. “I’d love that. Who’s living there now?”

Touya stretched, his back brushing the booth. “I do. And she does. Enji visits sometimes—” his tone was pointedly colorless “—and Fuyumi and Natsuo come by a couple times a week. Shouto is there almost daily for dinner when he’s not on shift, because his own cooking is absolute shit.”

You blinked, struggling to reconcile the idea of sweet-faced little Shouto with an adult who lived on his own now. “On shift?” you asked.

“He’s a fireman,” Touya rolled his eyes. “Little fucking do gooder. Ever since the house fire he’s wanted to.”

Your eyelashes fluttered again, your brain floating with the images of skinny, round-faced Shouto struggling to haul people out of a burning building. You struggled not to voice this disbelief.

“Wow, good for him,” you said.

“Not for me,” Touya complained. “Ever since he’s presented he’s been eating us out of house and home. Can’t find a fucking thing in the cabinets after he’s been through—”

And that shocked you, too, the idea that Shouto was already grown enough to have presented.

Objectively you knew he had to be into his early twenties at this point, but hearing the changes life had wrought on him was almost too much to contemplate. You wondered what he had presented as, and whether he’d be subject to the run this week as well. You’d always sort of suspected he’d be an omega, with that wide-eyed, beautiful face—almost a carbon copy of his mother’s, the same delicate prettiness in it as Touya.

And he’d been so sweet, too. When you’d been much, much younger—before Touya had become too cool and too emo for it—you remembered playing house together, remembered how often you’d dragged Shouto in to play the part of your son. He’d always sat there, a chubby-faced toddler, smashing blocks together and staring up at you with big eyes as you and Touya made plastic food and Touya unrolled a days-old newspaper collected from his father, bossing you around from his armchair.

Even when Shouto had gotten older and started to get as fresh with Touya as Touya was with him, he’d always been nice to you, always watched you with those same wide, mismatched eyes.

Yeah. He was most probably an omega.

“Well I’d love to see Rei, and Natsuo and Fuyumi and Shouto,” you said.

Touya stretched in the booth, not minding Keigo and thumping him right across the chest. Keigo squawked in annoyance.

“I’ll tell Rei you’re coming for dinner,” Touya said.

You smiled, pleased. You knew what a huge deal it was for both Touya and Rei to be in the same house again—both in recovery, both sharing the same space again.

When you’d left, Rei had been hospitalized and Touya had already been knee deep in petty crimes and utterly disinterested in any sort of overtures of help. For them to both be together again, getting regular help, with Enji out of the house and a rotating string of their family members checking in on them—you were happy to see them healing.

The buoyant feeling lasted all the way through lunch and too many drinks, until Touya shepherded you out of the restaurant, blazing a familiar path towards his family home. You followed, gratified when you saw that the Todoroki house was just as you remembered it, even the rebuilt pieces nostalgic.

Its grandness had been a shock to you as a child—not only in comparison to the tiny, squashed little two bed you’d grown up in—but that Touya had grown up there, in so vast and elegant a space. Touya who you dug in the dirt with. Touya who picked bugs out of the mud and put them on you. Touya who turned his nose up at dolls and ate things right out of your lunch box without asking, like he was a starving child without any access to food.

The house said otherwise.

Touya treated the Todoroki mansion with the same pointed lack of care he had as a teenager, kicking in the door as he led you inside, throwing his things in a pile in the entry. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, fondly nostalgic over his shithead behavior.

“You missed a spot—I think there’s a bare patch of floor over there,” you said.

Touya gave you a narrow-eyed gaze over his shoulder as he uttered a string of objects you might suck.

You raised your eyebrows at him, smiling and unbothered. He’d always said it was your beta nature that left you unfussed with his various attitudes, taking everything in stride. You didn’t know if that was true—you’d always sort of suspected it was the strange, inherent connection you felt to him, and to the Todoroki family at large that kept you fond of him, even as he descended into teenage fury.

You didn’t know what it was, as you’d not ever felt it with your other friends’ families who you’d spent nearly as much time with. But if it netted you a lifelong friend, you weren’t about to question it.

Rei was in the kitchen like she had been that first day Touya brought you home, an enormous expanse of marble counter and vaulted ceiling that made her look unfathomably small. Her snow white hair had been cropped short into a page boy cut and made her look younger than her years, especially when she glanced up at you with the very same smile she had when you were a child.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” she said. You bowed respectfully, Touya scoffing and grabbing the back of the collar to haul you up.

“She’s not the fucking prime minister,” he grunted.

“And you’re not the boss of me,” you sniped, the drinks you’d both shared at lunch making you a little looser tongued in front of Rei than you’d have liked.

“Shouto will be by in just a few minutes as well, and he’ll be so happy to see you,” Rei said, smiling gently.

“Shouto lives on his own?” you asked, curious. Aside from picturing him as the skinny preteen you’d last seen him as, you also had trouble imagining kind, sweet little Shouto leaving his mother on her own—and with Touya definitely counted as on her own, for all the help he was. Shouto seemed devoted, familial.

“He’s wanted his own space since he presented,” Rei said lightly, clearly unbothered.

It was rare for omegas to peel off from their family units before finding a mate, and the strangeness of striking out on his own struck you even further. Maybe he wanted a nest to bring someone back to, after finding the right person?

You wondered if he was going to be participating in this year’s mating run, and made a mental note to try and find out if he wanted help avoiding any undesirable alphas. If he was an omega, your beta scent would help disguise some of his tracks, you’d just have to follow in his footsteps far enough away from the main track that a ranging alpha wouldn’t accidentally stumble upon it.

That thought was cut short, however, by the sound of the door creaking open in the foyer you’d just come in from. There was the sound of rustling fabric, like someone shedding their coat, and then footsteps padded through the hall. A hint of a scent met your nose, slightly sweet and smoky, with an undercurrent of something fresh—like a campfire burning on a cold, clear day. Your brow furrowed, the frostiness an almost-familiar dimension, like Rei's cold widlflower scent. Who was—?

Then a tall, unfamiliar alpha poked his head through the door, fluffy red and white strands of hair tangling across his forehead. He was an arresting sight—easily the most beautiful person you had ever seen, every single one of his features so perfectly and evenly placed, like he'd been put together deliberately. He looked startlingly like Rei, if Rei were a man, except for the fiery blue of his left eye, the shock of scarlet hair above it.

You stared at this new interloper, confused, until you were seized with a sudden memory of that scar, that same mop of hair bent over a turtle-shaped block puzzle.

No. No fucking way.

Rei smiled, opening her arms, and you gaped after him as Todoroki Shouto prowled across the kitchen to her, enveloping her in a hug. Where Touya was taller than his mother, his baby brother almost dwarfed her, easily clearing six feet, his shoulders broad and his frame packed with dense muscle. He'd always had the same elegant, sweetly beautiful set to his features that his mother and Touya did, but there was something sharper about them now, a slightly more alpha edge to him.

An enormous bicep shifted against the sleeve of his t-shirt as Shouto held Rei, and suddenly it was very clear how Shouto had managed to become a firefighter.

Something pinched your arm, hard, and you whipped around to stare at Touya accusingly. “Ouch!”

He smirked. “Don’t fucking stare like he does.”

You scowled at him, and opened your mouth to say something unsavory, until two mismatched eyes turned on you, pinning you in place.

“Y/N,” Shouto said. His voice was deep as midnight—so much lower than you had remembered—careful and smooth. The sound of it slithered up your spine like a shiver.

“Shouto?” you answered, stepping closer. “You’re Shouto? Are you sure?”

Shouto released his mother, only the tiniest corner of his mouth twitching. And that was confirmation enough. Shouto had always been a little serious, watching you carefully and intently. He was most like his mother that way—withdrawn, a little bit solemn.

“As far as I am aware,” he said. His tone was flat but you heard the tease in it, regardless. And that was so like him too, couching his inner little shit under the most serious tone, under those earnest heterochromatic eyes.

“Wish he wasn’t,” Touya muttered.

“Oh my god, Shouto. You’ve grown up so much,” you said, a strange thrill zinging up your spine as he stepped closer. That scent like campfire on a cold day washed over you, making you a little dizzy.

Shouto’s eyes got a little bit round at the edges, and something pulled at the corner of his mouth again, an expression you didn’t recognize. His tone was soft as he observed, “You are exactly the same as I remember.”

You could tell he meant it kindly, so you chose not to be offended with his obvious tact. You were well aware you were not a fresh-faced high school graduate anymore.

“I’m definitely older than you remember,” you said, resisting the urge to poke him in the chest. Your hand felt magnetized toward it for some reason. “Don’t be surprised if you hear my bones creaking all the way from the preserve during the run.”

Something sudden and strange passed over Shouto’s face, those mismatched eyes narrowing in on you.

“You’re running,” he said, his tone suddenly flat. “This year.”

“Yeah I’m back in town for it,” you said, ignoring Touya’s scoff at your side. “Gotta appease my mother. She doesn’t get that betas aren’t the target crowd for this, nevermind ancient ones. That, and I plan to disappear up a tree if someone so much as sniffs in my direction.”

“Up a tree,” Shouto repeated, sounding contemplative.

You wondered if he was internalizing how weird you were. He probably wouldn’t have remembered you being weird, considering how younger kids never thought to question their older peers. Maybe he’d even thought you cool when you were growing up together—you’d quickly disabuse him of that notion.

You nodded. “I’ve only been followed by alphas twice and both times I lost them up that big willow overlooking the bay, if you take the seaside path out two miles?”

Shouto’s eyes tracked you closely, like he was committing every word to memory. “I know it.”

You smiled. “The sea breeze is just enough to hide a beta’s scent, once you’re out of sight up there. I hope the city life hasn’t gotten me too out of shape to get up the trunk. Though to be frank I’m not too worried about it this year. Are you running?”

“Yes,” Shouto said, so quickly that it looked like he’d startled himself.

Touya’s head whipped around to stare at him, and Rei’s eyelashes fluttered momentarily, a weird stillness overcoming her—until a sort of look of understanding came over her features. You thought you caught a hint of a smile as she ducked her head to return to her dinner preparations.

“Thought you said you weren’t interested,” Touya said, his tone accusing. “You’ve never run before.”

Shouto looked deeply unfussed by his older brother’s sudden consternation. “Perhaps I have changed my mind.”

“The hell you did,” Touya said snottily. “You said you knew you wouldn’t find your life mate there.”

“Perhaps that has changed too,” Shouto said, his tone so dry that you could tell he was purposefully needling Touya. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes. Brothers.

Touya’s scoff overlaid the thump of Rei’s knife as she returned to chopping, and you realized how rude it looked for the three of you to be standing there arguing while she was working.

You hurriedly stepped around Touya and Shouto, peering over Rei’s shoulder. For some reason you were hyperaware of Shouto as you passed him, a thought you shoved right back out of your mind as you approached Rei. “Is there anything I can help with? I feel like I have years of free dinners to pay you back for.”

“I am almost done, but thank you, Y/N,” Rei said, as Touya said something in a haughty tone of voice, and Shouto’s low baritone answered. Rei’s mouth quirked softly at this—and you realized it was the same way Shouto smiled, small and private.

“—Not bringing home some weird fucking omega,” Touya was saying when you turned back to the boys. You startled when you realized Shouto had shifted to face you instead of his brother, and his body language looked like he was mostly ignoring him.

You channeled your sudden laugh into a fake cough. Touya eyed you sourly, long used to your tricks.

“Well if you want any help on the run, let me know,” you told Shouto, cutting into their argument with the practice of a beta used to diffusing things, especially between Touya and others. Shouto’s mouth twitched again like he knew what you were doing, and you watched his eyes pick over you speculatively.

You marveled at how far back you had to tilt your head if you wanted to look him directly in the eye now. He was so big, and so unexpectedly handsome—he really had grown up well. Some omega was going to be very, very pleased at the end of this week, provided he really did go after someone.

“If it’s your first you probably won’t know all the best hiding spots,” you told him.

Not that they were really hiding spots, considering most omegas wanted to be found. And there was no one on this earth who wouldn’t want to be found by an alpha who looked like Shouto did now. But he’d probably want to make sure he got to his intended first, before any other alpha found them.

Shouto nodded, leaning forward conspiratorially. “I will take you up on that,” his tone was low, intimate.

You smiled up at him, though something weird twinged in your chest. “Lunch sometime this week then? I’ll walk you through everything.”

Touya made a noise of disgust, and you shushed him. Shouto’s smile pulled into a quarter-moon sliver, sweet and beautiful. “I would like that.”

A strange little thrill zinged down your spine. You very pointedly did not think about it, instead shooting Shouto a thumbs up. And then, seized by a sudden need to get away, you marched forward to grab Touya by his collar, dragging him out into the dining room.

“Do you have to make your mother do everything? Let’s set the table,” you ordered him, shoving him at the cabinets. Touya swore at you, trying to twist his lanky body out of your hands, spitting like a wet cat.

But your mind was already elsewhere, occupied by this strange new turn of events. It really had been a long time away from your hometown, and much more had changed than you realized. You’d missed seeing Touya start to recover his life, you’d missed Rei returning to herself, you’d missed Shouto growing up into a man—and an alpha. You were suddenly overcome by the feeling that you did not want to miss any more, did not want to leave again—though of course that was foolishness.

The run was less than a week away, and you had train tickets back into the city just after.

And you had your mom to provide for, much as she wanted you to settle down with the first rando who got handsy with you in the woods. An alpha would have to bring more than an interest in you to your coupling in order to win you—and that was not going to happen, especially not to a beta, and especially not to you.

You laid the dishes out, resolving yourself. You’d enjoy this week, but never lose sight of the fact that you’d still have to leave at the end of it.

After all, it wasn’t like some miraculous twist of fate was lurking just around the corner of the Todoroki kitchen, ready to change your life.

im sick of my parents trying to reconcile

I LOVE THISSSS

##/ anything with shoto todoroki

in which todoroki would do anything to get your attention, even denki’s foolish requests

another small drabble, not spell checked or anything so sorry, just whipped this up. gn reader.

shoto todoroki is very inept when it comes to romantic relationships, feelings and anything for the sort, emotions were not one of the things drilled into him as a child - despite him being a quite emotional one during his extremely early ages.

as a result, his crush with you had been a very turbulent ride, contrasted with the lack of progress and lined awkward silence between the both of you.

denki, the evil guy himself, decides to take advantage of this.

shoto regularly asks the guys for advice as soon as it became known he had feelings for you.

“i swear to fucking god, if you ask me this bullshit again i’ll tell her you kick puppies for a living, icy hot!” katsuki’s roars as he angrily fits his shirt on.

“kacchan relax! sorry shoto, maybe just tell her directly?” izuku advises.

“but… how?” shoto responds, head tilting slightly.

all the boys sweat-drop at him, amazed at how shoto is oblivious to the fact that even if he were to tell you to lick his shoes you would do it in a heartbeat, anyone would with a face card like his.

denki has had enough of this, how shoto is literally a walking model magazine yet doesn’t even know it, making all the boys feel like shit when asking them advice on how to get a girl when they haven’t gotten any dates in their whole lifetime?

i mean, has shoto even seen the edits?

“i have an idea.” denki smiles.

“oh dear god”

“HAHA DUNCE FACE FINALLY USES THAT PEA BRAIN OF HIS!”

“let him cook guys”

“ah hell nah, he damn near burn the kitchen.”

“HAHAHAHA!”

“yeah ok, let’s all hate the really cool guy!” denki sulks.

shoto walks towards denki, indicating that he wanted to listen to him. in all honesty, he felt as though denki knew the most of about romance, more than any of the other guys anyways.

denki’s face lit up, immediately leaning in to whisper into shoto’s ear.

“really? they’d want something like that?” shoto enquires, raising an eyebrow up whilst looking to denki.

denki nodded furiously in response, holding a thumbs up to shoto, not noticing the slightly evil glint in denki’s eyes.

at around 8:00pm, an hour after dinner was served, a knock rang through your dorm.

you reluctantly answered it, already wrapped in your warm duvet blanket (sponsored by shoto todoroki himself).

when opened your door, at first you saw nothing, the darkness of the hallway being the only thing in your line of vision.

then, out of nowhere, an array of phone lights illuminated the hallway, only for shoto todoroki to slide through in a black suit and a red tie, on his knees, with a bouquet of floweres in hands, all the way to your feet, with the song ‘there goes my baby’ by usher playing in the background.

then, as he arrived at your feet, he sultry flipped his hair out of his face and looked dead into your eyes, then said:

“it’s nearly easter and i don’t have my favourite surprise, stop stalling and be mine.” with a monotone yet oddly sexy tone.

the hallway erupted in laughter, including you, as shoto suddenly started to turn red.

he guessed that when denki told him in the locker room, it didn’t seem too weird as he backed it up by saying you reposted a lot of these videos.

but now, as he sat beneath you with flowers in your hand and a cringy pick up line that he’s now sure denki just made up on the spot, shoto felt kinda embarrassed.

but that all washed away when your squatted to meet him, brushed his hair out of his face and kissed him softly on the corner of his lips.

“you’re so corny, you couldn’t just asked me, you know?” you giggled.

“it… wasn’t-“

“trust me, i know. i’ll kill denki for you later, for now, come in.” you winked, pulling him off the ground and into your room.

the hallways cheered and clapped while shoto was bright red in the face, all while sporting a rare dopey smile on his face.

I DON'T REMEMBER THE LAST TIME I FELT LIKE THIS BUT TYSM AUTHOR FOR THIS CHAPTER I WANT TO TATTOO IT ON THE BACK OF MY BRAIN AND REREAD IT FOR THE FIRST TIME MANY MANY TIMES

conspire | 3 | practice

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

Fake dating Shouto Todoroki was an absolute whirlwind, but it certainly came with its benefits.

As weeks passed, you found yourself with a compliant test subject and plenty of data for the work you were doing on his support item. You’d confirmed that you could use this work as your submission for your senior project – developing a support item without any input, direction, or critique from a professor – and you’d set to the task with enthusiasm after that.

Shouto caved easily enough to the tests you’d put to him on your first “date” and you’d had way too much fun getting him to freeze and heat things for you, strapping him up in all the nodules and wires as you’d promised. Over the course of a few weeks, you’d analyzed the absolute crap out of the cryogenic structure of his ice crystals and tested the limits of his temperature control to your heart’s content, pleased that the amount of time you were spending together also played into your cover story.

It turned out his quirk worked as you’d suspected, which was incredible. Shouto’s power allowed his body to work like a heat pump, directing thermal energy against the current in which it naturally flowed at will. He used the energy from one side of his body to alternately push energy into or draw energy from the other side of his body, in order to create a temperature gradient strong enough to induce ice or flames.

He was basically like a really good looking, high-powered air conditioner.

The discovery was overwhelming and gave you limitless possibilities as to what kind of support item you could build for him.

The problem was, there were maybe too many options.

Keep reading

Shoto as a boy, like a boyyy not toxic, boyy like teen romance boy like one you don't find repulsive 🩵🩵

conspire | 2 | first date

pairing: Todoroki Shouto / Reader

length: 13,307 words / 5 chapters

summary: Shouto Todoroki had definitely only asked you out in order to ward off his horde of interested suitors. So why does he keep actually taking you out on suspiciously realistic dates?

tags: romance, reader-insert, fake dating, misunderstandings

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut

The next morning, your classmates wouldn’t shut up about it.

The rumor of your rendezvous with Shouto had spread like wildfire through the school, and you were assaulted by a wave of questions the second you turned up to modern lit. “Is it true?”, “Is he your boyfriend?”, “How do you know him?”, “Is he a good kisser?”, all blended into a cacophony of sound that nearly bowled you over as you stepped through the door.

You felt your face grow hot under their scrutiny and quickly stuffed yourself into your desk. “Yes, we’re dating. No, I won’t answer other questions about it.”

“Come on,” Miko–the girl in the desk closest to you–begged. “You’re dating Shouto Todoroki, the cutest boy in school, and you won’t even tell us how you know him?”

You wracked your brain for something close to the truth. “We, um, got along really well on that support item project last month. It’s nothing special.”

Miko’s mouth opened to fire off another question, but Mr. Cementoss cut her off with his arrival, launching immediately into his lesson plan. You sent up a silent thank you to whichever patron saint of fake dating had been listening.

The rest of the school day passed much the same way, and you wondered several times if the price of your senior project was perhaps too high.

Keep reading

This is actually so beautiful

Chapter Thirty-Three - Opia

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn, Racism, Suicidal Ideation, Psychiatric Wards, Forcible Sedation, Depiction of a Suicide Attempt

A/N: Mean't to get this out on Shigaraki's birthday proper, but oh well! Hope you all enjoy this chapter! I have a feeling you will xD

Read Full on AO3

[excerpt]

Well that was a shit show.

Two shit shows actually, she thought as she locked up the empty pool deck, and she couldn’t figure out which was more pathetic. Her disastrous attempt at reconciliation with Shigaraki, or that sorry excuse for a swim practice she’d used to try and get over it.

It’s not like it was even a high stakes practice. Yes, they were fully back from winter break now and gearing up for prefectural and championship qualifying meets, but the time now was being focused on cleaning up fundamentals and technique, rather than locking any specific rosters. Times were not make or break at this point.

And yet, somehow, she managed to seriously break.

Subpar times, late entries, jesus, she even missed touching the wall on one of her turnarounds — complete amateur hour. And she knew everybody noticed, how could they not?

At least they were polite about it though. Nobody giggled or whispered to themselves or made snide comments to her. They were still her friends after all (for now). But also, at this point in the year, they just assumed it was the typical senior fears and pressures getting to her. College recruiters, finals, entrance exams, what she was going to do with her life — things a lot of them were just as freaked by. So they didn’t feel the need to ask if something else was going on, sparing her that obnoxious little dialogue tree of:

“Hey are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You seem pretty out of it. Do you need to talk about something?”

“No really, I just have a lot on my mind and blah blah blah…

No, everyone had made their assumptions already, picked up on her wound-tight and, frankly, sour disposition, and figured she probably didn’t want to talk about it.

And they’d be right.

Because what could they possibly say to encourage her in this situation? Hell, what could she even say about this situation? They didn’t know what was going on with her and Shigaraki, and she certainly couldn’t explain it. 

“My kind-of-but-not-really-reformed-emotional-and-sexual-extorter, who I have the most inexplicable feelings for, is lashing out at me. I think our not-relationship is on the brink of ruin, and I don’t know how to fix it. What do you think, Nejire?”

Yeah, no. That was so beyond any teenage friend’s paygrade. 

Actually, it may be above anyone’s paygrade that didn’t hold a Psy.D…

She should’ve listened to Kurogiri and just given Shigaraki some space. Maybe if she did that now, let him cool down and come to her, this situation might be salvageable.

And yet, she couldn’t stop the anxiety from flooding her brain as she made her way to the school gate. She’d volunteered to stay late and oversee cleanup and locking the pool today. She’d figured that she could use the time to try and distract herself. 

For all the good that did. She was just as preoccupied as during practice. She ended up re-organizing the pull floats in the storage room three different times because her mind just couldn’t figure out how to make them all fit — despite having done this for three years now. She just couldn’t focus on anything other than the panic and what-if’s bombarding her.

What if Shigaraki interpreted her giving him space as her giving up on him? Of not caring? He was a persistent son of a bitch when the tables were turned, so maybe he needed her to be the same. God, but what if that made things worse?! It already had this last time. What if she completely ruined things by pushing? What if she ruined things more by backing off?

Maybe she was just doomed to ruin things no matter what.

She came to a stop just outside the school, all of her swirling thoughts and pressures dizzying and weighing her down. She groaned at the physical hopelessness of it all, “This is impossible…”

“What is?”

She jumped at the unexpected, but familiar monotone — not expecting anyone to still be on campus. Or at least, not anyone that would be paying attention to her acts of despair. But when she turned to the voice, she was even more surprised to see a very distinct head of hair waiting just a few feet away.

Continue on AO3

"I look cute. Don't waste it" BANSJAMZNZNSJKZ

Hiii!! Hope ur having a good day/night!! I was wondering if u could mayhaps please do an smau with Izuku x grumpy!reader that doesn’t really like interacting with anyone but him?? i mean major golden retriever x black cat dynamic vibes !! thank u and make sure to take care of urself !! <33

just for you | i. midoriya

in which you hate everyone—except izuku midoriya. unfortunately for you, he's also dangerously good at getting under your skin

Shoto let's katsuki get aggressive with him but he knows they're still best of friends and he's good at heart ˙˚ʚ(´◡`)ɞ˚˙

this is so cute to me 😭 todoroki isn't even fazed LMAOOO and bakugou looks so done with him KSJKS. they're literally dating guys!!! omg

AWEEEEEHHHH SHO CUTEEE

Please please pleaseee more dad shoto x mom reader its js too fluffy and cute 😭🙏

NOTE. so much fluff, my heart can’t take it anymore <3

Todoroki never thought that there would be a point in his life where he spent his weekends lying on the living room floor, holding a full conversation with his eight-month-old son as if the tiny human could actually understand every word. And yet, here he was—stretched out on his back, staring at the ceiling while his son, Shuu, rested against his chest, happily kicking his little legs as they engaged in what Todoroki was beginning to consider their usual weekend routine.

You had gone out to get groceries, leaving them alone for a while, and he had quickly discovered that Shuu was happiest when he was either being held or allowed to clamber all over his father like a small, determined climber.

Currently, said baby was on his stomach, his tiny hands gripping at Todoroki’s shirt as he made an admirable attempt to push himself up with all the strength his chubby little arms could muster. The doctor had mentioned tummy time was good for his development, but to Shuu, it was a grand adventure—maybe even his greatest enemy.

His son looked so much like him that it sometimes took Todoroki by surprise.

His wispy hair was still soft and undecided in color, but those round, curious eyes were a perfect mirror of yours. Every so often, when Shuu blinked up at him with an expression of innocent curiosity, it hit Todoroki that this was his child.

His son.

The little person that he and you had brought into the world. The realization never failed to strike him in quiet moments like this, when he had nothing to do but bask in the weight of it.

“You wouldn’t believe the week I had, Shuu,” Shouto murmured, lifting a hand to gently rub slow, soothing circles on his son’s tiny back.

Shuu let out an excited coo in response, one of his chubby hands grasping at the fabric of Todoroki’s shirt. His fingers barely curled around the material, but he held on determinedly.

“Midoriya somehow managed to schedule us for a meeting at seven in the morning. Seven, Shuu. On a Friday. You know what that means?”

Shuu let out a happy shriek, completely unaware of the horror of early morning meetings. Todoroki sighed dramatically. “Exactly. It means I had to wake up even earlier to get dressed, drink coffee, and mentally prepare for Midoriya’s enthusiasm before the sun was even fully up.” He paused, frowning slightly. “And then he had the audacity to say it was a ‘great team-building experience.’”

His son slapped a tiny hand against his chest, his bright eyes gleaming as he babbled incoherently. Todoroki nodded as if he understood.

“Mhm, I know. I should’ve expected it. But at least your uncle Bakugou suffered with me.”

His son cooed in response, the sound soft and bubbly, like he was adding his own input.

Todoroki nodded solemnly. “Yes, exactly. You understand.”

The baby let out another happy noise before suddenly pressing his face against his father’s chest, his tiny mouth leaving a damp spot on the fabric. Todoroki exhaled through his nose. “And now you’re drooling all over me. Again.” He chuckled in amusement, bringing a small bib up to carefully wipe away the small trail of drool forming on his son’s chin.

“Wah uhm!”

Todoroki sighed, but there was no real annoyance in his expression. But there was an odd sense of contentment settling over him as he let his hand rest on his son’s back, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. It was moments like this that made everything else—the long work hours, the exhaustion, the constant balancing act of being both a hero and a father—completely worth it.

“You are very talkative today,” he observed, shifting slightly so Shuu was better balanced on his chest. His son blinked down at him, completely unbothered, before letting out another high-pitched babble. “Oh? That’s your input? You think I should get revenge on Midoriya?” Todoroki’s lips twitched. “That’s devious. Just like your mother.”

At the mention of you, Shuu’s little face brightened even more, and he kicked his legs with excitement, making Todoroki smile. “You miss Mama already?” He kissed the top of his son’s head, inhaling the soft baby scent that lingered in his hair. “She’ll be back soon. She’ll probably scold me if I let you get too drooly before she comes home.”

As if on cue, Shuu blew a big, wet raspberry against Todoroki’s shirt, successfully soaking the fabric. Todoroki sighed again. “Well, I walked right into that one.”

He shifted slightly, tilting his head to get a better look at his son’s tiny features. “You’re going to grow up into a strong, smart boy, Shuu,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “And I’ll always be here. Even when you start talking back to me instead of babbling nonsense.”

Shuu responded by planting both hands on his father’s chest and pushing up, his tiny arms trembling with the effort. He held himself up for a moment before collapsing back down with a happy squeal, his round cheeks pressing against Todoroki’s shirt.

Todoroki smiled, gently rubbing his son’s back again.

The front door opened a moment later, and your voice called out, “I’m home!”

Shuu perked up instantly, letting out a delighted squeal as he tried to push himself up again. If anything, Todoroki thinks that Shuu would’ve crashed into your legs by now if he were able to walk. And he just lifted him with ease, sitting up just as you walked into the living room with a grocery bag in each hand. You took one look at them—Todoroki’s shirt covered in drool, Shuu’s delighted expression—and shook your head fondly.

“Did you two have fun?” you asked, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter before making your way over.

“I think he’s plotting something,” Todoroki said seriously. “He suggested I take revenge on Midoriya.”

You gasped, placing a hand over your mouth in exaggerated shock. “Shuuchan! Are you already learning how to scheme?”

Your son shrieked in response, his chubby arms reaching for you, his mother. You laughed, scooping him up and peppering his face with kisses. Todoroki watched you, his heart full.

Yes, he never thought he’d be here—spending his weekends talking to an eight-month-old like he was a full-grown adult.

But he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

THIS IS ONE OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING IVE READ😭

and i wake with your memory over me / thats a real fucking legacy to leave

t. todoroki x reader

the trials and tribulations of housing (and loving) a wanted fugitive. a little smut (implied) mentions of (his) trauma and some bnha spoilers but with a (kinda) happy end・❥・

special tag for @crushmeeren cause i love you <3

song: maroon

pro: he’s your closest friend

he’s lived most of his life with a heart frosted over, thick ice to withstand the burning rage he emits. after years of being stomped into the cracks of the sidewalk, he’s learned to be guarded, to build impenetrable walls so high even he can’t see through them. life teaches you to trust no one when your first betrayal is family.

but anyone who manages to infiltrate those walls, search for the openings and sneak in through the windows is rewarded. his walls stay up, but he does give you a key, sometimes without even realizing it.

when you do find your way in, it’s something sacred. its 2ams, laughing with your feet in his lap, and somehow ending up on the floor after a few swigs of cheep rosé. it’s his showing up outside your window heaving and wounded, knowing your faulty bandages and less-than-knowledgable stitches are better than any professional medical car. its leaving marks on your collarbone when things get heated, that messy grey area of knowing the attraction but knowing he’s the last person in the world that should be in a relationship. its wanting, and its about trust.

“i see you every day, now.” you point out. its not a complaint or a compliment; just a fact you both are aware of.

he absentmindedly strokes the calf thats resting on his lap, feeling your healthy, breathing skin against the deceased purple cloaking him. he almost laughs, knowing he’s successfully turned your apartment into a home for him.

but who can blame him? he’s never known what a home was, until you.

“got a problem with that, doll?” he tilts his head back, white hair resting against the couch cushions. he knows you don’t, but sometimes, a man will need reassurance.

“i would have called the cops if i did.” you smile. he does too, and its rare that he smiles genuinely these days.

con: he’s an asshole, sometimes

he’s shit with his words, and he knows it. he stopped attending school in his most formative years, and learned most of his tongue from the streets. and the outside world can be less than forgiving to a boy like him. after all, the house he left wasn’t exactly nurturing.

sometimes, he’ll go weeks, months even, radio silent. he’ll let rust grow between telephones, feel the ringing of whatever burner phone he’s using ho off but not pick up. sometimes, he’d wish he could disappear altogether, and alleviate you of the pain of caring for someone like him. sometimes. other times, which is most of the time, he’s a selfish dick, and hopes that you’ll always be the lips he calls home.

he doesn’t know how to say sorry. its mostly because the sorries he’s thought about giving are sorries he shouldn’t have to even verbalize: “i’m sorry i wasn’t who you wanted.” “i’m sorry i couldn’t be the son who would surpass you.” “i’m sorry i didn’t burn myself bright enough so you could watch it happen.”

he has a horrible, stinging feeling in his gut when he knows he’s upset you, and he hates the way it makes him feel. so he swallows his pride and a shot of whiskey, before going up to you.

“doll?”

“i’m not talking to you.”

he has the audacity to roll his eyes.

“i’m sorry for what i said.” he mumbles like a little boy, and its almost funny.

“and i’m sorry for being a dick.” he says what comes to mind, what he knows is true about himself. that he can act like a bitch most of the time, and even though he thinks the world deserves it, he excluded you from that belief.

he rambles on, just hoping you’ll turn around and face him. he wants to watch the world burn, he wants to make people suffer. but he also doesn’t want to lose the one person who tries to understand him, even if it means biting his tongue a little.

pro: he’s a man of action

he’s shit with words, but he will make up for it with his what he does. he spews that gifts are unnecessary, that he’d see his father buy expensive jewelry for his mother when the cameras were watching, and that its all just a dumb performative act. the next second he’s giving you a new sweater and some earrings because he “doesn’t wanna deal with it if you get sick” and “thinks it’d look good on you.” he says he so doesn’t care, but hides a smile when he sees you wearing it.

he’s also a protector. he’s lost too much in his life to risk the one person he actually gives a shit about. god forbid you show up with any traces of a bruise or an upset frown, because he’s no stranger to the arsons match. but he’s more than willing to stay with you, because he knows better than anyone the look of loneliness. he doesn’t understand why you want him- this wasted potential of a man- around, but he knows that at the very least, no one is touching a hair on your head when he’s with you.

he may not be able to warm you with words, but he can make your cheeks look like wine when he cares, which is always. he just won’t always admit it.

“do you wanna stay the night?” you ask, sitting up from your head on his lap. you’re about 3 seasons in on some dumb, reality tv show that he says he doesn’t care about, but gets whiney when you watch an episode without him.

“at least buy me dinner first, doll.” he smirks. its his way of saying yes.

you roll your eyes: “you ate the soba i made you, jackass.”

con: he’s self destructive

for someone who seems to sure of their plans for revenge, you wonder how the hell so easily loses sight of himself. perhaps he can’t see through the smoke, or is blinded by the glowing blue he emits. perhaps its a combination of smoke, fire, and revenge, all in a tumultuous cycle that will one day end in his demise. everyone who knows him is simply counting down the days until he wears his bones down to nothing but ash. he doesn’t want to be saved, and he’s made it clear. he knows that there are hands that reach through the fire, reaching for him.

and he knows one day, you’ll lose him for good. he loathes the pit in his stomach when he thinks about you, alone, with nothing but the smell of smoke on your clothes. would you cry? would you miss the smoke despite having clean air? he’s not worthy of that, or even you.

sometimes, he’ll try to rip the bandaid off prematurely. the reason he’s a dick with a shitty vocabulary is because he doesn’t want you to miss him. in fact, he hopes you’ll hate him, that you’ll scream good riddance when the curtains close on touya todoroki.

but by some cosmic miracle, you don’t. and for however long he has with you, he wants to cherish that.

pro: he can’t give you forever, but he can make you feel like it is

touya knows that one day, you’ll wake with his memory over you. its a shitty excuse for a legacy, a ghost that can’t be exorcised or appeased. and you know that no matter what, you’ll always feel a little bit of him, a little bit of the heat, even after he’s gone.

he can’t give you forever, but he’ll kiss you like it is. he can’t give you a pretty wedding or a diamond ring, but he’ll steal gemstones and earrings for you. he can’t give you a family, or a nice house, or any of the beautiful things you deserve, but he’ll make sure to leave his burned handprints all over your heart. touya can die knowing that you will move on, but that the love you two shared burned brighter than ever.

he knows that you can’t have forever, but that you will forever wish that it was. he thinks for a moment, that if things were different, he could. that perhaps if you had met before his accident, before the darkest moments of his life, things would be different.

he can’t give you different, or forever, but you take him for what he is. and he loves you for it.

HIII I love ur smaus and the way you write the characters are just ,,,,,jdjdjdjjs anwyas,, could u mayhaps pls do a Bakugou x romantically oblivious reader?? I just think the dynamic would be hilarious LOLL !! ty and hope u have a great day/night!! :)) <33

wait, are you flirting? | k. bakugo

bakugo is very obviously into you. you think he's just a strangely intense friend.

this is art

MR. TOKYO BEAT HOTTEST HERO : SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: Shouto finds out he’s hot. He swiftly uses this knowledge against you. CONTENT & WARNINGS: pro hero au, established relationship, afab reader (no pronouns used), shouto's general obliviousness, todoroki shouto is a little shit, fluff, aged-up characters, smut, nipple play, vaginal sex, emotional sex, 18+ minors please dni! (3.8k)

Pro Hero Shouto Voted Tokyo Beat’s Hottest Hero of the Year

It’s been almost six years since Todoroki Shouto swept onto the scene as pro hero Shouto, melting almost as many villains as he has hearts. Currently standing at number four in the hero rankings, he’s armed with a formidable ice-and-fire combination quirk nearly as devastating as his smile.

Shouto’s heartthrob status has created such a sensation that he’s papered the pages of our magazine hundreds of times since his UA days. Now he’s taking home the coveted Hottest Hero crown… [read more]

It was a frosty night in early December when Shouto returned from patrol, looking uncharacteristically ruffled.

To an outside observer, his expression probably looked as bland as ever. But years into your relationship, you knew how to read your boyfriend’s microexpressions—the tiniest furrowing of his brows, the softest downward hitch of that perfect, plush mouth. He looked troubled—more troubled than you’d seen him in a while.

You turned off the heat on the stove, abandoning the dinner you’d been preparing, and rushed over to him as he shed his boots at the door. He’d apparently already changed out of his hero uniform at the agency, dressed instead in the high-collared gray coat that always made him look like he’d wandered out of the pages of a J. Crew catalog. He shrugged his coat off in tandem with his backpack, the tiny frown still carving his lips.

“Shouto—what’s wrong? Are you alright?” you asked, immediately taking his face in your hands.

Shouto blinked down at you, twin points of blue and silver fixing on your face. To your satisfaction, his expression seemed to soften, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his mouth instead, and he murmured your name in greeting, his tone low and soft.

“Did something bad happen on patrol?” you asked. “You look troubled.”

Two warm, big hands came up to encompass your own, his thumbs smoothing over the backs of your fingers. You let him pull your hands away from his face to hold in his own, and he pressed a kiss to the knuckles of one, his mouth sweet and hot on your skin.

You flushed. Despite the years you’d been together, you had never been able to establish any sort of immunity to Shouto. If anything, the crush you’d had on him before you’d gotten together had only grown more out of control the longer you were exposed to him—-you still got butterflies whenever he looked at you with a fraction more intensity than normal.

“Hello, love,” he said, his mouth lingering over your skin.

Your stomach swooped, and your face got hot. Damn him.

“Hi Sho,” you backtracked. “I’m happy you’re home. But seriously, did something happen?”

Shouto’s fingers tightened around yours, and a little wrinkle appeared between his brows. “Not on patrol. Something else… unexpected happened.”

You watched him, waiting for him to elaborate.

His eyes roved over you, as if searching for the appropriate words on your face, until he seemed to find the right question. “Am I… do people consider me handsome?”

There was a moment of stunned silence before an incredulous laugh burst out of you.

The most beautiful man on earth, the internet’s steadfast boyfriend—the literal stuff of wet dreams, lurid fantasies, and thousands of covert sessions with a vibrator—was asking if he was considered handsome.

You knew Shouto had never been interested in his own beauty, blinking at compliments as if unsure how to receive them, generally oblivious to anyone hitting on him as though he thought people were that friendly to everyone, never spending any significant time in front of the mirror unless it was to stare at you next to him in the reflection, undoing your hair or washing your face or brushing your teeth.

But to be so unaware of his own looks that he was asking you?

“Shouto, you know you’re handsome,” you said. “I tell you all the time.”

The wrinkle between Shouto’s brows deepened. “You think so because you love me. But—I meant… do other people who do not love me think so?”

Your eyebrows shot to your hairline, floored by this line of questioning. “Shouto—every single person on earth thinks you are like the hottest man alive. Are you for real?”

Shouto blinked, those gray and blue eyes growing a fraction wider. “They do?”

You nodded, surprise coloring your tone. “Yeah—you didn’t know? Sero calls you ‘pretty boy’ to tease you like all the time. You get hit on every time you leave the house. You have twitter accounts dedicated to you.”

A tiny pout crept onto Shouto’s mouth, and his eyelashes fluttered. “I thought he said it as a joke. And I thought those accounts were fans of my work. And I thought… you only thought so because you love me.”

You laughed. Shouto’s good looks were as serious as a heart attack. So serious they might just induce one, in fact. And you did love him, and would love him no matter what he looked like—his inside was just as beautiful as his outside, and would always make him attractive to you. He was so kind, so thoughtful, and so inherently bone-deep good in so many ways that made your heart swell just looking at him.

Truly he was love-you-even-if-you-were-a-worm material. But this was no laughing matter.

“What’s brought this question on now?” you asked.

Shouto blinked again, looking slightly startled, then turned to his backpack. He produced a glossy magazine with a sticky note stuck to it, covered in his manager’s handwriting that read: check out page 43 >:). Just over the sticky note, two very familiar heterochromatic eyes peered out intensely from the magazine’s cover.

You peeled away the note to see your boyfriend’s face in full—his expression handsome and solemn. The shot must have been taken sometime post-rescue as he had smudges of ash all along his high cheekbones, and his hair was windswept, and a little piecey, like he’d just finished using phosphor. A headline next to his ear proclaimed, Todoroki Shouto: Tokyo Beat’s Hottest Hero Alive!

You looked back up at Shouto to find both of his ears red, though his expression was determinedly blank-faced. A grin yanked at your mouth.

“Well someone who works there has eyeballs,” you said, laughing. “Congratulations, Shouto!”

The scarlet at the tips of Shouto’s ears deepened. “I do not… I did not expect…”

Your smile grew larger, fondness blooming in your chest. He was so good you wanted to bite him. Of course he never expected anything like this—his concerns were tied to his heroics—had he saved enough people, was he living up to the hero he wanted to be? Even when he’d finally broken the top five earlier last month, he was only pleased to be so recognized because he wanted many people to be reassured by him, not out of any sense of competitiveness with his fellow heroes.

He would never think of anything like this—he was so fucking good.

“I always thought—my scar,” Shouto said, touching his face.

Your heart squeezed and you wormed your fingers under his, placing your hand over the scar in question.

“Your scar is a part of your face and a part of your identity. But to be real with you, it only makes you look more interesting, Sho.” Your own ears heated. “To be completely honest it’s—well it’s one thing that makes you look human. You kind of look, um, unnaturally handsome otherwise, like some kind of vampire or angel or something. When I say things like you’re too handsome to be allowed I actually mean it, you know.”

Shouto paused, those heterochromatic eyes flickering back down to yours. A scarlet eyebrow quirked slightly. “Then you also think that I am handsome,” he said, though it was phrased more like a revelation to him than a question.

“Did you think I was lying?” you asked hotly.

Shouto shook his head minutely. “No—but I did not realize. You found me handsome before you loved me?”

You laughed. “I had eyeballs before I loved you, so yeah. And I wouldn’t be so effusive all the time if I didn’t mean it. You think when I tell you stuff like that that I’m just playing it up?”

Shouto’s expression went suddenly blank, like a marker board suddenly erased of nefarious plans. Instantly, your hackles raised, the smile falling off your mouth, your senses suddenly screaming danger. Shouto might be the most trustworthy, reassuring, and beautiful pro hero of all time, but beneath the surface lurked a youngest child and a major little shit. His expression only ever changed like this when he was about to get up to something.

“Then you think I am so handsome you cannot think,” Shouto said.

The magazine suddenly crackled in your fingers as you clutched it between you. “What.”

Shouto moved a step closer, gaze sharpening. “When you said I was so handsome you cannot think. You meant it.”

A sound like a nervous cow escaped you as you backed up a few steps. “Did I say that?”

A tiny smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth again, a cross between something sincerely pleased and sincerely shit-eating.

“When you said I am so handsome that sometimes your brain goes static,” he said, his tone dropping low, prowling closer. “You meant it.”

You flushed hot. Hearing your words repeated back to you like that was so embarrassing.

You flailed when your back hit the wall, and Shouto stretched out an arm, blocking you in. You couldn’t help the way your eyes flicked to his bicep for a split second, admiring the way it flexed slightly under the sleeve of his shirt as he pressed his hand to the wall, the way the kitchen light shadowed it lovingly.

Shouto’s ears were even redder when you looked back at him, but his gaze was hungrier. He’d definitely noticed your inspection, and his newfound realization about your level of appreciation was clearly both pleasing but embarrassing.

“You said your brain does not work right when I am close,” Shouto said, his face looming near. “Am I doing it right?”

He was doing it right—terribly, horribly, awfully right. Your breath caught in your lungs, lights in your brain winking out one by one as that soft, perfect mouth hovered just over yours. Shouto was so warm this close, and you could feel all the fibers in your body straining towards him like plants unfurling under the sun.

You rallied yourself one last time, throwing your hands up, defeated. “I live with a literal Greek sculpture of a boyfriend, am I not supposed to admire the artwork?”

Shouto didn’t respond. Instead, you saw the smile on his lips widen a fraction, just before his mouth captured yours.

In the space of a heartbeat he’d pressed himself against you, trapping you against the wall just as your knees went to pudding. You could feel every part of him against you and you couldn’t think, all your thoughts slipping away, dissolving like sugar in water. Shouto’s hands came up to support your waist, pinning you against the wall as he kissed you so sweetly and so very thoroughly.

“Is this it, love?” he asked when he pulled back, something both smug and wondering in his tone. “Am I doing it right?”

You scraped the bottom of your mind for any fragments of human language with which to respond. “You always do it right, you little shit.”

Shouto’s mouth quirked in a smile again, and he leaned in to press it to the side of your throat, lips moving softly. You shivered in his hands and felt the way his smile widened on your skin.

You could practically feel delight pouring off of him, this discovery of his new power—a power he’d always had but never understood in full.

It figured Shouto’s beauty would only interest him insofar as he could deploy it against you.

But that was Shouto. Everything he had was something he used in service to others.

Shouto’s mouth mapped a hot trail down your throat, and you clung to his shoulders as his lips dipped under the collar of your shirt and sucked, softly but insistently. One of his hands left its place at your hip to slide up your stomach and beneath the fabric of your shirt, cupping the side of your breast.

He wasn’t touching anything, but the feeling of his hand, warm and strong and so very large that it spanned over your chest and ribcage, sucked all the oxygen right out of the air. You bit back a noise as Shouto left another mark beneath your collar, his long eyelashes fluttering against the skin of your throat as he let out his own soft groan.

“I thought you were beautiful, too, before I loved you,” Shouto said as his fingers traced the outline of your bra, just barely skimming the skin underneath.

Your ears went hot, the way they always did when Shouto got sincere in place of dirty talk. It was even hotter than the filthiest thing he could have said to you, because you knew he meant every single word of it.

“But now I love you, you are even more beautiful to me,” he said. “Is it the same for you?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but cut off on a moan as Shouto’s fingers finally found their way beneath your bra, his thumb swiping over your nipple. Your head thunked back against the wall when he did it again, pinching gently as his other hand covered your other breast, mirroring the action.

Heat streaked through your veins, pooling in your core. You bit your lip as Shouto played with you, feeling those heterochromatic eyes hot on your face.

“Answer me, love,” he commanded gently.

You peeked open an eye, realizing you’d squeezed them shut, shuddering as Shouto’s thumbs swiped over your nipples again, the touch perfect and maddening. Shouto was watching you intently, as he always did, but there was an extra dimension of interest, as if he truly did not know, truly wanted to know what you would say.

“Yes,” you told him, your tone hitching higher as he gently rolled your nipples in his long, pretty fingers. “Yes I—oh!—only find you more incredibly handsome every day—ah! Shouto!”

Shouto looked pleased, leaning forward to layer a kiss over your mouth as he played with your nipples. You squirmed under his hands, panting into his mouth, the touches already overwhelming. After years together, he knew exactly how to work you.

A strong thigh slid in between your own as Shouto pressed himself closer to you. You kissed him fiercely, huffing tiny embarrassing noises into his mouth, grinding against his thigh.

“Fuck, love,” Shouto groaned as he grew hard against your hip. You felt like you were floating, thoughts distant, the only present idea the feeling of Shouto’s strong body over yours. He was all over you but you wanted more, wanted to climb inside him and make your home there, wanted him to press inside of you and fill you and claim you and keep you—

“Shouto, bed—please, please—” you managed, before Shouto was hefting you in his arms obligingly.

He dumped you on the bed with a little less finesse than usual, following you down hungrily, weighing you into the sheets.

He made short work of your clothes, and you were bare to him in what felt like seconds. Shouto’s mouth immediately sought your breast again, closing over your nipple as his fingers dipped inside of you. You writhed with the heat of him over you, the heat of his mouth on you, the gentle press of him inside of you.

His thumb brushed over your clit as his tongue did something mind-bending over your nipple, and a moan escaped you, high and shivery. Shouto’s huff across the skin of your chest told you that it had pleased him, and he sucked a little more firmly, a little more insistently.

“Shouto, Shouto, Shouto—” you babbled mindlessly, hands sliding all over him. You wanted to touch him but you couldn’t reach him in return, so you settled for sliding your fingers into his hair, clinging as he made stars fizzle under your skin.

“Shouto—I’m going to come—you have to stop if you want to—ah!” you squeaked, as Shouto rubbed you more purposefully, moving over your clit in the way he knew you liked. His fingers moved inside you unrelentingly as he licked and sucked you slowly, the contrast between his mouth and his fingers too much for you.

Your pleasure rolled over you like a wave, rushing through your veins, pooling in all your limbs. You seized up under Shouto, but his weight held you down, his mouth and fingers working you through it.

You were still whining with sensitivity when he worked his own clothes off and slid into you, filling you up with the familiar shape of him. Your whine trailed into another moan, the feeling of him so utterly perfect inside of you.

“I don’t need anyone to think I am handsome but you, love,” Shouto said, canting his hips up so that he slid in and out of you. “All I want is you.”

You shifted, wrapping your legs around his back, pulling him deeper inside of you. “I know—Shouto, you’re beautiful inside and out. I love everything about you. Your face, your voice, your kindness, your goodness,” you paused as he filled you again, grinning up at him. “Your di—”

A powerful thrust had you choking off into a squeak, and you clutched his bicep as Shouto smiled down at you, his own grin charming and mischievous. You thought he was especially handsome just like this—panting, flushed, grinning, glorious—the way no one else got to see him but you. Mr. Tokyo Beat Hottest Hero he may be, but people still would never know how truly beautiful he could be, grinning down over you.

That was all yours.

Shouto wormed an arm between your back and the mattress, catching your waist and pulling you into him. The new angle had him brushing against your clit as he slipped in and out of you, and your eyes nearly rolled back in your head when you caught sight of where you were joined together, Shouto’s abs flexing tightly as he moved back and forth within you.

Sounds of pleasure slipped out of you, and Shouto caught them in his mouth. You kissed him back, clinging to his shoulders, pulling him closer. You reveled in the feeling of his hot skin on yours, shivering in delight with the contrast of his heat and the cool room around you.

Shouto’s hips worked into you, chasing both of your pleasure, his strokes fluid and sure. Those long fingers slid down your body again to press ever-so-slightly over your clit, and you bucked into his hand, delirious with the feeling of him pressing against you from both the inside and out. With the heavy weight of him over you it was like he was all around you, all over you, in your mouth, in your sex, overwhelming you.

You writhed against him, babbling a string of nonsense when he let your mouth free. Praise about how beautiful he was, about how good he was, about how good he felt, about how much you loved him.

Shouto breathed his own praise into your ear, his mouth closing around the lobe. He told you how beautiful you were, how much he loved you, how even if everyone liked the way he looked it was “all for you, love—everything is for you.”

His fingers slid in soft circles around your clit as he ground into you, kissing his way up your throat. You panted into the dim of your bedroom, little stars sparking in the corner of your vision. It felt like someone had lit a sparkler beneath your skin, a thousand tiny points of fizzing, burning friction, and Shouto was touching every single one of them.

“Cum for me, love,” Shouto commanded, his tone soft and low, kissing the underside of your jaw.

You couldn’t speak, could only nod, nearly there. His fingers kept toying with you, expert and unrelenting, and in another few seconds the wave of your pleasure was mounting again. It swept over you like a tidal wave, smashing through you, sweeping through every limb, every nerve ending.

You cried out Shouto’s name, clenching around him, and then he was abandoning your clit to pull you up into him, grinding hard. His pace grew faster, more frantic, and he panted into your throat, until he was following you off the edge, pouring himself into you, filling you up from the inside.

You shivered and shook against him until finally the wave of your pleasure crested. Shouto relaxed over you as your limbs went slack too. He pressed a kiss to your mouth, slow and languid.

“Definitely Tokyo’s hottest hero,” you said muzzily, your words a little slurred. “The world’s hottest hero, even.”

Shouto huffed a tiny laugh. “I only need to be your hottest hero,” he told you, his heterochromatic eyes pinning you earnestly.

You smiled up at him, running a hand absently through his scarlet and white mop of hair, the silky strands slipping through your fingers.

“You always have been. Before I loved you, but especially now that I love you this much,” you told him.

Shouto smiled, then, a pleased, half-moon grin, so beautiful and so clever that it knocked the wind right back out of you again. You leaned up to kiss him again, soaking in his private beauty, pleased that you out of everyone got to have him like this. And you would make him feel it again—you wanted to show him again how much he meant to you.

He was Tokyo Beat’s Hottest Hero—but he was your most beautiful, beloved, cherished hero. And that was a thousand times better. So you’d show him a thousand times over.

You rolled over him, delighting in the slight widening of those beautiful eyes, the tiniest quirk of interest on that perfect mouth.

You’d show him—starting right now.

LOADS OF FUN : TODOROKI x READER

SUMMARY: After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure why—but when he comes home to you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft (18+ only, minors please dni!), pro hero au, gn + afab reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional sex, table sex, cunnilingus, the shouto domesticity kink agenda goes absolutely crazy in this one lol (2.8k) NOTES: This piece is part of my pretty boy summer Shouto x Reader collab! Please go check out the other incredible fics people have written over the course of the summer; you will absolutely die over how good they are. This fic was also made possible through donations to the Fics for Gaza project. I cannot thank everyone who donated to one of the charities enough, as well as those who organized, reblogged, discussed, and got the word out. Lastly, I am so grateful for your immeasurable patience with me as I take time between fics to manage my workload, I hope I'm not too out of practice here lol. In summary: thank you, thank you, a million times thank you.

The sound of the door opening was hidden in the thump and glug of the washing machine starting its spin cycle.

Halfway across the house, you were oblivious—you had the clean laundry spread out on the kitchen table, hunting through the pile trying to match one of Shouto’s socks to another that seemed to have vanished into that mysterious void which opens somewhere between the laundry basket and the dryer. One of his shirts was half-folded over your shoulder, abandoned in favor of the sock search.

The rest of your things were still mostly tangled together on the table, warm and fresh and cottony, the few shirts you’d already folded sagging off the kitchen chairs.

It still gave you a little thrill—even several weeks after you’d moved in together—to see Shouto’s things twined up with yours—his enormous socks dwarfing yours, your sweaters clinging to the occasional piece of his hero suit that hadn’t seen enough action to need his agency’s industrial cleaners.

It all added to your sense of satisfaction with your afternoon—a frosty weekend day you’d spent cozy indoors, moving slowly and leisurely through some chores. A pot of soup simmered on the stove, and your favorite playlist worked itself through in lazy loops. Shouto was due off his rotation soon, and you hummed contentedly to yourself, entertaining pleased little fantasies of curling up with him for the rest of the weekend.

Which of course is when something moved in the corner of your eye. Your hum sawed up into a strangled screech, and you whipped around, flailing. Shouto’s sock launched itself full force at the intruder before you even registered you’d thrown it. In your shock, your leg caught against the table and you went stumbling—

—right into a pair of warm hands that caught you about the waist.

Your hands were on the man’s shoulders to push him off before you realized you recognized the touch—and that you’d caught sight of a distinct mop of scarlet and white hair as you’d whipped around.

“Shouto! Again?” you scolded reflexively, even as your heartbeat stuttered out of its wild kick into high gear. You tipped your head back to stare your boyfriend in the face, shoulders slumping in relief, letting him take some of your weight.

Shouto peered down at you, that tiny scrunch between his brows that indicated concern. “Are you alright, love?”

Your heartbeat pounded thunderously in your chest. “I’m—fine. But my god we need to get you a bell. I almost peed.”

Shouto’s mouth shifted minutely into something that might not have registered in anyone else’s face but was most definitely a regretful downturn on his. He looked even more unfairly beautiful than when he’d left you this morning—a little flushed and windswept from the unseasonable cold, that full mouth pink and pretty.

Your mind flicked momentarily off and back on like a circuit breaker, the way it always did when you had to process Shouto.

You’d understood he was once-in-a-generation levels of beautiful before you’d even met him, his face staring up at you from the glossy pages of various tabloids over the years. But in person, even after years of knowing him and several more dating him, Shouto’s appearance still managed to cross all the wires in a person’s brain. His features were an incomprehensible blend of aloof and elegant, sensual and warm—like a cold masterpiece of a marble sculpture had suddenly found himself with a consciousness and human desires and miles of warm skin.

“I did not mean to startle you,” he said, his voice low and warm. He sounded sincerely regretful.

You knew he hadn’t meant to—you’d long suspected his silent tread was habitually ingrained in him from years of hero work. And, in your most private and ungenerous thoughts, you suspected from years of making himself unobtrusive in his father’s home. The thought sat sour in your mouth, like a slice of pickled lemon.

You resisted making an equally sour face, shoving the thought away to make space for the reflexive flush of pleasure seeing Shouto always brought you.

“Welcome home, Sho,” you said instead, smiling up at him. Shouto’s hands moved on your waist, sliding gently beneath the hem of your tee-shirt to rest on the skin there.

He was still in his hero uniform, and as usual you felt a little goofy in comparison, in nothing but a tee and a well-loved pair of fraying sweatpants, which were this afternoon decorated with little flecks of soup from a brush with the pot.

But Shouto’s eyes were warm where they rested on you, and that perfect mouth crept back into a contented set. His long fingers smoothed over your skin as he watched you, thumb brushing your hip. He did not look like he found you at all goofy.

In fact, as his eyes dropped down to your ankles, slowly dragging back up to your face, you rather thought he looked a little appreciative. He even took a rather ungentlemanly step back, still holding you, to better take in the whole picture. His eyes wandered over the swell of your hip, the lines of the shirt against your chest, before darting to his own shirt, still folded over your shoulder.

His fingers flexed tellingly on your waist, and those heterochromatic eyes were both a little bit darker as they flicked back to yours.

His obvious regard made you feel warm. You shifted on your feet, shuffling.

“I was just—doing laundry,” you said for something to say, your mouth feeling kind of dry. Something about him always made you feel sort of shy and light-headed, even after all this time together. “And I made soup. I was thinking we could eat on the couch and watch one of those horrendous old All Might films?”

Shouto’s eyes darted to the stove, then beside you to the pile of your laundry, lingering for a long minute. His long lashes dipped, almost fluttering as his gaze traced over the tangle of your things together. His eyes flicked back to you. He was still for just a moment, watching you assessingly.

And then all of a sudden the world spun in front of your eyes. The hands at your waist lifted you clean off your feet, and you let out a startled “oof!” as you found yourself laid out in the pile of laundry on the table, sheets and sweaters bunching beneath you.

Shouto moved over you, stepping between your spread thighs, right at the edge of the table.

“You have no idea,” he intoned in a deep, delicious tone that went right down your spine, “what it is to come home to you like this.”

You wondered at that, feeling a strange combination of confusion and flattery, when Shouto’s mouth descended onto yours. His mouth was soft and sweet and insistent and absolutely perfect. The table groaned as he laid some of his weight out over you, pinning you into the laundry as he kissed you.

Your fingers clutched at him immediately, curling in his silky-soft hair, cupping his face to yours. One of Shouto’s own hands shifted to your thigh, holding you against him as he pressed himself harder into you.

You heard yourself making little gasps of appreciation as Shouto’s mouth moved down to your neck, laving hot kisses down your throat. You reveled in the feeling of him over you, broad and strong, his shoulders blocking the glow of the overhead light, casting shadows over you.

He’d been a lot like this lately, ever since you’d moved in together. He’d been adequately amorous before, of course, and blessed with a pro hero’s strength and unflagging stamina. But a few weeks after you’d moved in together you’d actually decided you needed to reactivate your gym membership given the amount of incredibly athletic sex you were suddenly having over almost every surface in the house.

One of the only spots yet to be touched was the table though, which Shouto seemed determined to rectify at this very moment.

He pulled back from you, his mouth flush from your kisses, looking a little entranced as he stepped out from between your thighs. You made a little noise at the loss of weight and heat over you, but Shouto caught the fabric of your sweatpants, gently but determinedly tugging them off of you. Your underwear was tossed right over one broad shoulder as Shouto went to his knees, and then his mouth was right back on you.

A wave of wild heat licked up your stomach at the noise of appreciation he made before sealing his mouth over you, strong fingers clutching your thighs to keep them apart.

“Oh my god!” you said, pleasure zinging right up your spine with the first lave of his tongue over you. “Shouto!”

Shouto let out a deep, pleased hum, two long fingers sinking into you embarrassingly easily as he worked your clit with his mouth. Your back arched and you could feel your clothing shift with you, Shouto’s shirt balling up under your shoulder blade, still half-draped over your shoulder.

“Oh, oh!” you heard yourself saying as your fingers twisted in the clothing, shuddering with every lick and suck of Shouto’s perfect, amazing, talented mouth.

He worked you with the expertise of long, dedicated practice—everything about him calculated to drive you insane. One moment he was excruciatingly soft, mouth slack and the touch of his tongue as fleeting and light as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. Then the next he was sucking relentlessly, teasing firmly with the tip of his tongue as his fingers played with you.

Your first climax hit you mortifyingly quickly, and Shouto seemed to know it before you did. His grip tightened on you, holding you down as you bucked against his mouth. Shouto looked more than a little smug as he got to his feet again, unbelting himself and laying back out over you.

He kissed you some more, the taste of yourself always a sort of shock to your system. But Shouto never seemed to mind, and if anything only seemed hungrier for you, mouth pulling at yours like he meant to devour you.

You felt the touch of his hand between your thighs as he lined himself up, then sank into you easily, groaning appreciatively like he’d just sunk into a hot bath. He bit carefully at your neck, one large hand pressing your stomach down to keep you pinned against the edge of the table where he wanted you.

“I always want to come home to you like this,” he intoned into the skin of your neck, his mouth sucking dizzying patterns into your skin. “Always.”

You could barely think past the slide of him inside you, thick and full and blissfully exquisite. He really was the most perfect man on earth, and he always felt like it too.

You barely managed to blink your eyes open to watch him, trying to catch his meaning in his face. Shouto watched you back, those blue and grey pinned on you like he couldn’t bear to look away from you as he moved inside you.

“You—” you panted out, trying to cling to the thoughts threatening to wiggle out of your grip. “What do you—? Of course you’ll always come home to me.”

Shouto bucked into you harder, the slap of his hip against the bottom of your thigh echoing loudly over the burble of soup on the stove. His eyelashes fluttered, mouth softening, and a realization struck you almost dizzy.

Oh, he really liked that.

You suppressed a wave of giddiness, charmed and helplessly pleased that he seemed to like the idea so much. Was that why he’d been so especially ardent this past month? Was it really because you’d moved in together?

Shouto’s arm hooked under one of your legs, drawing it up firmly over his shoulder so he could press even further inside of you. He looked so good like that that you nearly lost the thread of your thoughts, especially when his next thrust felt like that. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head.

“Ah!” escaped you. “Fuck, Shouto. Like that, please!”

Shouto’s thumb pressed down on your still-sensitive clit and he had to dig the fingers of his other hand into the flesh of your leg to keep you from bucking him right out of you with the way you squirmed. Sweet fucking gods he was unreal.

Shouto fucked you harder, the sound of your skin slapping together obscene in the quiet of the kitchen.

You tried again, struggling to watch his reaction with the way you wanted to throw your head back and babble nonsense instead.

“You’ll always come home to me,” you repeated, gratified when Shouto’s grip on you tightened, a soft sound escaping him. “You want me right here for you?”

“Ah—yes, love,” Shouto panted, staring down at you again. He looked like he knew what you were doing but didn’t care. “Yes,” he hissed.

“Just like this?” you prompted, trying not to slur the edges of your speech when he gave another particularly mind-bending thrust of his hips. His chest rose and fell heavily and he looked a little wild-eyed, gazing down at you.

“Like this, for me,” he said. “In my home, in our home—”

You could hear the table squeal and groan with the force of his next thrust, and then you had to grip the sides of it to steady yourself as he fucked you, looking blissful. Your nails scrabbled at the edges of the table, caught in between a million sensations—the glorious fullness of Shouto inside you, the gentle grind of his thumb against your clit, the way he looked all flushed and beautiful and panting and wanting—

You squeezed your eyes shut, too overcome with the sight of him to look at him anymore, but it was no use. Your entire body trembled as you came, and Shouto let out a low swear at the way you clenched up around him, hunching over you and pressing himself so impossibly hard against you as he came too.

He slumped down against you, weighing you into the soft-smelling cotton of the laundry you were now definitely going to have to rewash. You could feel his chest rise and fall as he panted, his breath tickling the skin under your ear. He left an unbearably soft, sweet kiss just under the lobe, at odds with the near-wild way he’d just been fucking you.

You warmed, petting through his hair with a helpless affection.

“Well now I know what time I should always do our laundry,” you said.

Shouto huffed into your neck, but you could feel a tiny smile curve his mouth.

“It is not just that,” he said, but did not elaborate for some minutes until you elbowed him gently. He peeled himself off of you just enough to look down into your face. “It is the thought of our life together. Our clothes piled together. You in the home we chose and we made…” he said, trailing off.

But you thought you got the sentiment. It was about how easy it was, how uncomplicated. A safe place to come home to, no expectations, just soup and a pile of sweet-smelling laundry and someone happy to see you. It was something far away from what he'd grown up thinking a home was, possibly something he’d thought he’d never have—something you were determined to make him realize now that he always would.

You let your fingers pull through his hair again, smiling up at him. “I am going to have to do our laundry again, though,” you teased. “In case that interests you.”

And despite what he’d just said, Shouto did in fact look a little too interested. You watched his mismatched gaze trail over to the closet that opened onto the washer and dryer. A contemplative look snuck across his handsome face, carefully curling the corner of that plush mouth.

“There is another place we have not yet broken in,” he said slowly, voice dipping low. He looked down at you with an earnest expression completely in contrast to what he was suggesting.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and that was all the permission he needed to pull you up, gathering you up in his arms and layering a fat handful of laundry on top of you. His belt buckle rattled loosely beneath you where he'd barely done it up in his haste, and you laughed harder when he turned off the stove as you passed it.

Though it turned out to be a needed precaution—as neither of you found yourselves free to sit down to dinner for several hours yet.

i love fanfics like this, i love shojo mangas with cool and composed male and ive had experience too. the best one, but i didnt know what was going on in his head most of the time and i had pressuring bg of my own. i lost the most precious chance of my life and i dont think it'll come my way again... it couldve gone well, but reality sucks. i wish i could peek into his mind, because in these fics there's a third pov to tell u he feels the same iykyk

a series of unfortunate confessions

summary: after trying to confess to your crush countless times, you finally decided to give up. but then...

pairing: shoto todoroki x reader

warnings: fluff, todoroki is a bit dense, reader is worse than marinette from miraculous

word count: 1.7k

a/n: this was dumb

you had been crushing on todoroki for months now. the way his hair split perfectly down the middle, the quiet, almost shy way he smiled—everything about him made your heart race. but you were determined that today was going to be the day. no more pretending. no more overthinking. you were finally going to tell him how you felt.

“i like you. would you like to go out with me?” you rehearsed the line in your head for what felt like the thousandth time as you walked down the hallway toward his usual spot, leaning against the lockers. he was standing there, looking as cool and composed as ever—like he didn’t even realize how much you adored him.

you stopped in front of him, inhaling deeply, straightening your back. this is it.

“hey, todoroki,” you said, trying to sound calm, your voice shaking slightly despite your efforts. “i need to tell you something.”

he glanced at you, tilting his head slightly. “what’s up?”

you took a deep breath. i got this!

you stepped forward with newfound confidence, but why would anything go your way. you tripped over absolutely nothing and into his arms. except this wasn’t a kdrama, and now the only thing left for you to do is to dig 6 feet down from where you stand. the snickers of passing by students did nothing to aid your embarrassment.

“are you ok?” he asked, caring as ever. his stupid, perfect face looking at you with concern and his perfect voice, the way his eyes…

and you’ve been staring for 5 minutes.

you scrambled to your feet, cheeks bright red. “oh yeah i’m great! awesome sauce even..”

“awesome sauce?” the boy repeats after you.

smooth. real smooth. you stand there planning your funeral until he interrupts again.

“-you wanted to say something?” he reminds you.

“oh yeah i wanted to say that i uh- i really like… your hair!”

you stand there shifting awkwardly forgetting how to stand like a normal person.

todoroki blinked, obviously confused. “uh… thanks. i like your shirt?”

your stomach twisted in embarrassment. this wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all.

the best part about texting was the fact that you could sit in front of your phone and reread the text you had typed out for hours before sending it.

the plan was simple really. just text him.

unfortunately you just had to find a way to mess this one up too.

...you pause, wondering if this is a bad idea. but you’re already typing.

“hey todoroki, i need to tell you something important…”

you stared at the screen for a while, reading it over and over. no, that’s too formal. you’re not texting a business partner. so, you deleted it and typed again:

i like you. i really do. please go out with me.

after a second of hesitation, you hit send and put the phone down, avoiding looking at it for a solid minute. you were such an idiot. he was probably going to think you were weird and pushy. you probably ruined everything.

your phone buzzed, and your heart skipped too many beats.

you picked it up and stared at the message, expecting something dramatic.

the message was short and simple.

milk?

you blinked at the screen, unable to comprehend what had just happened. you looked at the message again. did you send the wrong one? no. no, this was his response.

what? you typed, feeling a wave of panic wash over you.

todoroki replied even more confused, the note… it’s a grocery list.

your eyes widened in realization. you had mixed up your heartfelt confession with the grocery list you’d written earlier in the day. how could you mess that up?! you quickly texted back:

omg, i’m so sorry!! that was the wrong message. ignore it. i’m dumb.

you groaned, burying your face in your pillow.

his reply came a few minutes later. it’s okay. you don’t need to explain yourself.

you were officially a colossal failure.

attempt #3 was the worst of them all. you had enough of awkward moments and embarrassing mishaps. this time, you weren’t going to let anything stop you. you had prepared yourself, stood in front of him with determination, and blurted out, “i like you!” without thinking.

for a long, agonizing second, todoroki stared at you, his expression unreadable. then he blinked, looking a little puzzled. “oh. you like… my shoes?”

your eyes went wide, and you wanted to crawl into a hole and die. “no! i mean… yes, your shoes are great, but—”

“oh, thanks. i got them on sale.” he smiled slightly. “glad you like them.”

you felt like your entire world was crashing down around you. this was not happening.

you had tried. god, had you tried.

you tried in the hallway. you tried over text. you tried to his stupid, perfect, beautiful face.

and yet, every single time, the universe seemed determined to humble you. at this point, it was personal. you were convinced fate itself was standing in the corner, with a bucket of popcorn, watching you struggle for its own amusement.

so, you did the only thing that made sense. you gave up.

no more stammering, no more overthinking. you couldn’t possibly mess up if you just did not try.

so when todoroki asked you to meet him after class, you weren’t expecting much. maybe he’d ask about homework, maybe he’d comment on the weather—maybe he was about to tell you your latest confession attempt was so bad he had secondhand embarrassment and that if he was you, he'd leave the country.

what you were not expecting was for him to sit next to you, stare straight ahead, and say—

“i like you.”

…

huh?

you blinked. once. twice. a third for good measure, but he was still sitting there, looking completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just shattered the fabric of your entire existence.

“you…” you struggled to form a coherent thought. “you what?”

“i like you,” he repeated. casual. effortless. like it wasn’t a big deal. like it wasn’t something you had been agonizing over for months.

you stared at him. he waited.

todoroki was a patient guy, but even he eventually raised an eyebrow. “you’re not saying anything.”

oh. right.

you took a deep breath, attempting to restart your system. “you like me?”

“yes.”

“like… like like?”

todoroki blinked, tilting his head slightly. “would i have said it if i didn’t mean it?”

you just sat there. completely, utterly stunned.

this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. you were supposed to confess first. you were supposed to have a moment. and yet, here you were—your grand plan ripped away from you before you could even execute it.

you slowly turned to him, eyes squinting. “so you’re telling me… that the whole time i was struggling to confess, you were just sitting there? watching?”

“i had a suspicion,” he admitted, completely unfazed.

oh, you wanted to scream.

you buried your face in your hands. “i can’t believe i spent all this time embarrassing myself, and you knew.”

“i didn’t know for sure,” he said, like that was supposed to make you feel better. “but i figured you’d never actually say it at this rate.”

the audacity. the nerve. you lifted your head, ready to argue—except when you saw him looking at you, amusement barely visible at the corners of his lips, all the fight drained right out of you.

because he liked you.

shoto todoroki liked you.

and somehow, despite all the chaos, despite every failed attempt, despite how absolutely stupid this entire journey had been—

this was perfect.

even if you had no clue what to do now.

This shoto is real

having to explain exaggerations to shoto

“you’re so handsome, i could die!” you exclaimed, looking at shoto as you sat at his family’s dinner table, though it was just the two of you.

his hand froze, no— his whole body froze. you could die? just because of how attractive he was?

shoto’s eyes widened and his mouth was slightly agape. he had to find a way to become less attractive, and quick! he didn’t know being handsome could kill someone. maybe he should be less around you or mess up his face so he wouldn’t be as appealing to you—

“god, i remember the first time i saw your smile. you flashed those pearly whites and i nearly dropped dead!” you chuckled, leaning your cheek against your fist, unaware of shoto’s panic.

could this really get any worse? first, you thought he was so handsome, and his looks could kill you! then, when he smiled you almost died? he gulped, ashamedly looking down at his food with sad eyes. he didn’t want to kill you, you were the love of his life.

you asked, “honey, what’s wrong?” and tapped your finger against the wood.

he thought for a moment, trying to rethink every decision he ever had with you. he didn’t want your relationship to end, and he didn’t want to be the reason you died.

“i didn’t know my looks could kill you.”

a laugh almost escaped your body, and your worried expression was quickly replaced with a smile. you covered your mouth and tried to hold back a chuckle, but you couldn’t help yourself. giggles came from your mouth, but you tried to keep it to a minimum so you could explain to shoto what you meant.

“baby, i’m just joking! looks can’t actually kill someone, unless there’s a quirk for that,” you mumbled the last part, tapping your chin in wonder, “i’m just saying that the first time i saw you, i fell in love with you because of how beautiful your smile was! your looks are amazing, sho, that’s why i’m saying i almost always pass out whenever i see you. it’s outstanding how handsome you are.”

his breathing evened out and he placed his chopsticks down, mumbling something under his breath. he let out a small ‘oh,’ then stated, “thank you.”

you nodded and continued talking to him, and he, of course, paid attention, but his cheeks were as red as a tomato. he tried to hold back a smile, shy from all of your compliments, although they were just an explanation.

shoto’s cheeks brought your thoughts away from your words and again, to him. you mumbled, “you’re gonna be the death of me, sho.”

his eyes widened like they did last time, “huh? wait— oh…” the two of you laughed it off and forgot about it the next morning.

hope u guys liked this one! i love shoto so muchhh :)

Fully believe that when Touya has a baby, it just makes him hate his dad more. Like he thought he already hated his dad, but holding his child for the first time made him double down to a new level of hate.

Because how could you look at this little being that is half of yourself and half of the person you love most, that is so helpless without you, that looks up at you with such innocence and joy and love….and then project all of your self loathing and ambition onto them. To the point of feeling nothing when you verbally, emotionally, and physical abuse them. How can you feel anything but wonder and love and a desperate need to protect.

Looking into his hours old baby’s face, and feeling its tiny fingers curl around his finger…he hates his father all the more.

KUROO I LOVE YOU KUROOOOO 😖

DES says . . . most ive wrote in weeks, omfg. ANYWHOO, i present to you: “can he pay my bills?” ft. bakugou, iida, izuku, todoroki, kirishima & denki.

© vampdes . do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

Shoto and dabi!!

silly texts!

featuring: k!bakugo, i!midoryia, e!kirishima, d!kaminari, h!shinsou, s!hanta, s!todoroki, k!takami, t!todoroki.

authors note: complete crack smau, suggestiveness, humour, fluff.. basically meme texts plus some of my own ideas! m.list! ignore the typo in shinous pls!

p.s sorry if these are ooc

"Look at me"

AWEEE

todoroki shouto and his 8-month-old son having identical pouty faces.

It becomes trouble when your husband and 8-month-old son are quiet as you’re about to finish preparing dinner. You could sense it, like a superpower you could only unlock when you reached a certain milestone in life.

“It’s just a piece of soft biscuit. Maybe we can give him only a little—“

“No, Shou.”

You had only denied your son a snack once, and yet, the betrayal in his big, watery eyes made it seem like you had committed an unforgivable crime.

Your eight-month-old son, snug in Todoroki’s arms, was pouting hard—his chubby cheeks puffed out, lips trembling, and his tiny hands curled into fists against his father’s chest. Tears clung to his thick lashes, threatening to spill at any moment. He was the very image of pitiful distress.

And Todoroki?

He wasn’t much better.

He’s holding your son with an almost identical expression—unmistakably sulking, his lips pressed together in silent protest (but he knew he could never win this war against you). It didn’t help that your son was his near-perfect replica, down to the way his tiny eyebrows furrowed in quiet displeasure. The only major difference was this little boy inherited your eyes.

Thank the heavens, because you almost came to the conclusion that Todoroki reproduced by himself via asexual reproduction.

Because it was dangerous how alike they looked.

You crossed your arms, unimpressed. “Oh, come on. It was just one snack.”

Todoroki’s grip on your son shifted slightly as he responded, voice flat but clearly displeased. “It was just a small piece.”

The baby, as if understanding that his father was taking his side, whimpered softly and nuzzled closer to his father’s chest, letting out a tiny, heart-wrenching sniffle.

“Dinner is literally a minute away. He’ll survive.”

“He might starve and lose his healthy body,” Todoroki tells you warily.

“Shou, take one good look at our son. He’s chubbier than any of his older cousins, plus, we feed him formula 5 times a day, he eats solid food twice, and even gets a snack when he wakes up from his naps—so don’t tell me he’ll starve when he eats more than we do combined.”

Your husband didn’t argue further, but his silence spoke volumes. He gently rubbed your son’s back, sighing as the little boy let out another sniffle. You knew this game—Todoroki might not be saying anything, but his entire posture screamed, “I think you’re being unfair, but I won’t push it… even though I’m clearly upset.”

“The pouting isn’t going to work on me.”

Todoroki blinked, expression unchanged. “I’m not pouting.”

“You are,” you told him. “And he’s just copying you.”

At that, he finally glanced down at the baby in his arms. Your son blinked up at him, sniffling again before sticking his bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.

They stared at each other for a long moment.

“…I think this is just his natural expression,” Todoroki finally said, deadpan.

“Uh-huh. I don’t think we’ll ever need a DNA test to prove that he’s yours.”

“Why would we need a DNA test when I’m the only man you’ve ever been with? And our son also looks like me—“

“Oh, Shou. It was a joke,” you sigh lovingly.

“Oh.”

Todoroki hummed, shifting your son slightly so he could wipe away a stray tear from the baby’s cheek. “Your mother is strict,” he murmured, speaking softly to him as if he wasn’t right in front of you. “Very heartless.”

“Excuse me?”

The baby hiccupped, seemingly agreeing.

Todoroki glanced up at you, the slightest hint of amusement evident in his eyes. “It’s true.”

You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Unbelievable. If I left meals to you, he’d be living off of cold soba and whatever random snacks you keep in the fridge.”

Todoroki didn’t deny it (for the most part).

“But I do take cooking classes now...”

“Mhm.”

He gently bounced your son in his arms, his gaze softening as your baby yawned, snuggling closer to his chest now that the dramatics had settled.

You sighed, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to the top of your son’s head. “You’ll thank me later, little pouty boy,” you murmured before glancing up at your husband. “And you—stop ganging up on me with him.”

“I didn’t do anything,” he replied, completely straight-faced.

You gave him a knowing look. “Uh-huh.”

A comfortable silence settled between you before you turned back to the stove, giving the curry one last stir. “Dinner’s ready.”

He smiled. “Finally.”

You shot him a playful glare, though there was no real heat behind it. You took your son from his arms, adjusting him on your hip before pressing a small kiss to his chubby cheek.

“Alright, come on, little pouty boy.”

Todoroki followed closely behind. “Which one?”

You laughed at that.

“Both of you.”

SEUMYO © 2025. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

:⁠^⁠)

Todoroki brother shenanigans