Sosiski

teenage dirtbag!touya who’s actually just a loser with piercings and some style and skips class to go smoke under the bleachers

★ TEENAGE DIRTBAG ( GRUNGE¡DABI )

it's the early 2000s on a tuesday morning and here touya todoroki is, skipping a chemistry class with you. he simply found you walking outside the football field with a random ball you found lying on the ground.

your feet kicked and kicked the ball as it kept rolling forward. you're not one to skip classes, always attending to each one of them but always sleeping in under the nice roof and shade. so why are you outside and under the sun?

he strolled over to you and stood there, raising a brow at your behaviour. "what? you feeling emo?" his words broke you out of your trance as you shrugged. "they're conducting experiments today. i don't have a group. so, what's the point?"

"woah, same. you and i are such losers, aren't we.." touya went to take a seat under the bleachers to avoid the sun. "come here, smoke with me!" you heard him called out to you as you tilted your head and went over. "but i don't smoke!"

"don't care. pretend like you do."

you remained silent as you took a seat beside him, holding up your knee to your chest. your eyes watched as he took out a cigarette and handed it to you, setting one in his mouth before he lights it up and glances at you feeling the cigarette. "you don't have to light it up."

"then why give it to me?" a brow you raised as he shrugged. "if i'm getting in trouble for skipping class, so are you. this time, we'll both be caught smoking under the bleachers. how fun."

"kay, fair enough. i'll just keep the cig then."

then for the rest of the chemistry lesson which either didn't have a partner, touya smokes and you listened to his huffs and puffs. it's just two teenage dirtbags having fun and finding solace in each other.

© SENEON 2024 ♰ do not repost, alter, or translate.

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 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 !

Lmaoooooo🤣🤣

horikoshi was writing a good story but then he suddenly got really horny for endeavor for some reason i think the story would have worked much better had he died in the war arc as originally planned

hori when he drew ch.291 and noticed endeavor is kinda sexy from some angles

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.

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.

YESYESYESOHYES

hi rue .. i’m kinda shy to ask this but can you please do a small drabble of the reader and touya arguing (not quite intense) & touya keeps replying with “no maam” or “yes maam” every time the reader asks questions 💔💔

🚬 oh i could kiss you rn. mhm. thank you sweet anon i stayed up at 2am writing this heh

fratboy touya get out of my heaaddddd

yes ma'am // touya todoroki

the puddles beneath your feet splash against your bare calves with every step.

"for fuck's sake, stop walking so fast." touya's voice calls out from behind you as you turn the corner of the street. the heavy bass of the house party you ran out of slowly drowned into nothing as the rain hit your body.

it was nearly 12am, and the downpour was only getting stronger. your fingers shook as you pathetically rubbed the sides of your arms, hoping to muster up some heat from the friction.

touya reaches out and grabs you by the shoulder, pulling you back towards him.

"you seriously mad at me? after i just poured my heart out for you?" he half-chuckles. "c'mon now sweetheart, at least reject me to my face."

"poured your heart out?" you scoff, forcibly facing him. "what kind of a fucking confession involves punching a random guy in the teeth?"

"that dumbass had it coming to him with or without the confession." he rolls his eyes.

"touya." you shake his hand off of your shoulder. "you can't go around starting fights just because you can't use your words."

"didn't i, though? made it very clear you were off limits." he shrugs, a hint of satisfaction gleaming in his eyes.

you glare at him, crossing your arms over your chest as you let a silence fall over you with the droning of the rain.

touya brings a hand up to push his soaked hair back from falling into his eyes. he blows out a breath of air in defeat.

"i'm sorry, okay? don't be upset."

you take a step forward, leaning in just mere inches from his face. touya bites back a smirk as his cheeks grow hot from the proximity.

"you will go back inside and apologize."

his eyes follow the rain droplets trailing down to your lips.

"yes ma'am."

"you will find me some dry clothes."

his gaze continues to follow down the soaked t-shirt clinging to every curve of your body.

"yes ma'am."

"you will take me home."

touya licks his lips, letting the cold water on his lips grow hot against his tongue.

"yes ma'am."

you step back, watching his eyes flicker between your eyes and lips, counting all of the droplets that slip from your chin and eyelashes.

"are you listening to me?" your face grows hot.

"mhm. yes ma'am."

"and when we get back my apartment, you're going to properly use your fucking words and tell me how you feel. okay?"

touya reaches his hand up to tuck a stray soaked strand of hair behind your ear, letting his thumb graze against the side of your jaw.

"yes ma'am." he slowly nods his head, knowing that the moment he's alone with you, he'll be using more than his words.

-

touya tags: @kaldurahms-lover @moonchild701 @themultifandomgirl @devilslittlehelper @porusuniverse @ratatellie @katbug37 @ggriwm @moonlitmorganite @bitchyfestivalbouquet @touyas-wife

Why does he text like..... A very specific friend.....

orrrrder up! ft. touya todoroki (3)

✶⋆.˚꩜ .ᐟ˙⋆✶

warnings&a/n: you know the drill guys keys jokes and bullying. sy has learned that she's verrrry bad at leading up to romance so if this is bad then look away. thanks you.... and crazy how i literally have the material to already start on a part 4 my brain is straining from this. ALSO touya owns a motorcycle. he is a biker. you can't take this away from me. I LOOOVE YOU GUYS XOXOXOXOXO!!!!!

link to part 1 || part 2

it pulls a string in my heart

Sosiski

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.

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