Awie

DABI LOOKS GOOD WITH PINK

WE HAVE BEEN BLESSED

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.

FUNNY LMAOOO

various silly texts pt. 2

shigaraki x reader

slightly suggestive, vague mention of period stuff

ineed

Synopsis: Dabi hates Valentine’s Day, but that doesn’t stop him from committing petty theft to make you smile. Nothing says romance like stolen chocolates and a little chaos

A/N: this little fic was written in celebration of Valentine’s Day ♥

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II

Dabi loathed Valentine’s Day.

Overpriced chocolates. Cliché heart decorations. Morons scrambling to impress each other with tacky gifts that meant absolutely nothing. The whole thing was one giant joke.

He wasn’t the kind of guy to buy flowers, plan out sentimental dates, or give a damn about overpriced chocolates wrapped in shiny, heart-covered packaging. The entire concept of Valentine’s Day was a capitalist scam, and he had spent most of his life watching people fall for it like suckers.

But he was, apparently, the kind of guy to commit petty crime just to see you smile. Not that he’d ever admit it.

"Oi, are you done yet?" Dabi drawled, leaning against a shelf while you sifted through the convenience store aisles.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder. "Almost. I told you, I just need to grab some stuff for Spinner, Twice, and Toga."

Dabi sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Dunno why you bother. They’d survive just fine without all this crap."

"You say that, but Spinner will actually die without his energy drinks, and Twice has been begging for those stupid limited-edition snacks all week."

"And Toga?"

"She asked for ‘anything cute,’ which means she’s getting strawberry-flavored Pocky with edible glitter."

Dabi snorted. "Yeah, that tracks."

You were completely focused on your little shopping mission, scanning the shelves with a look of determination that was almost adorable — which made it the perfect time for Dabi to make his move.

While you debated over which flavor of instant noodles Spinner would tolerate the most, Dabi turned, walked straight past the cash registers, and grabbed the nearest box of chocolates off the holiday display.

Then, because he was feeling particularly obnoxious, he reached for a stupidly soft, red teddy bear — the kind that was so cliché it hurt.

He didn’t even try to be sneaky about it. Just grabbed them like they were already his. With that, he simply left the store, unnoticed by the crew that had too many customers in.

Standing outside a combini in the chilly evening air, hands shoved deep into his pockets, Dabi waited. Waited for you to finish paying for the boring, legally acquired items. He leaned against the wall, a cigarette hanging lazily from his lips, watching the city pass by. A box of chocolates rested securely under his arm, so did the teddy bear. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he glanced back through the store’s glass windows. 

You hadn’t noticed. Too busy sorting through energy drinks for Spinner, digging through the snack aisle for Twice, and picking out something for Toga. Always thinking about everyone else.

Tch. You were too soft for the League.

He shifted his weight, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. 

A minute later, you finally emerged from the store, a paper bag in your hand, eyes immediately narrowing when you spotted him. "...Did you actually pay for that?"

Dabi blew out a low chuckle, tapping ash from the end of his cigarette. "What do you think?"

You groaned, rubbing your forehead. "Dabi—"

"Relax. No alarms went off, no cops are chasing me. Everyone wins." He jerked his chin toward the bag in your hand. "Got what you needed?"

You sighed, clearly choosing your battles. "Yeah. Spinner’s energy drinks, Twice’s snacks, and Toga’s stuff."

"Great. Let’s get outta here."

You eyed the chocolates and the bear under his arm. 

He shrugged, like it was the most casual thing in the world. "Figured you deserve somethin’ cute for the Valentine’s Day, doll."

Your brows lifted. "You stole me a box of chocolates and a teddy bear?"

"Better than buying ‘em." He flicked his cigarette away, smirking. "Not like I’m made of money, babe."

You shook your head, but the way your lips quirked upward gave you away. "You’re impossible."

Dabi tossed the chocolates at you.

You caught the box, huffing, and the two of you started walking. 

The streets were quieter than usual, most people tucked away in their warm apartments, probably enjoying their candlelit dinners and normal Valentine’s plans.

Not you two, though.

You were halfway back to the hideout when Dabi’s steps slowed. He was about to make another snarky comment when something caught his eye.

You followed his gaze, and— oh.

Oh.

There it was.

A massive billboard, towering over the city streets, illuminated in bright, glowing lights.

Endeavor’s face.

Suited up. Slicked-back hair. Flames curling over his shoulders, making him look important, powerful.

"IGNITE — A FRAGRANCE FOR MEN."

Dabi stared at it. His jaw ticked. His fingers flexed, the muscles in his neck tensing just a little too much.

And then, very calmly, he handed you the teddy bear he carried all the way. "Hold this," he said.

"...What?"

"Hold. This," Dabi repeated, stepping away from you.

You barely had time to react before flames erupted from his hands. Bright, blue, and merciless.

Flames roared to life around his hands as he aimed them directly at the smug, larger-than-life face of his scumbag father.

The fire hit its mark immediately, scorching the edges of the billboard, burning away the too-perfect image of a man who didn’t deserve to be idolized. The flames spread fast, curling and twisting, devouring every last trace of the advertisement.

People on the street shouted in surprise, some scrambling away, some pulling out their phones to record. The city lights flickered against the inferno, and within moments, the entire stupid ad was nothing but ash.

Dabi clicked his tongue, watching as his father’s name and perfect image melted away into ash. "Much better."

You exhaled, shifting the teddy bear in your arms. "...So I’m guessing you didn’t like the ad?"

Dabi scoffed, turning back to you. "What gave it away?"

You smirked. "The arson."

He rolled his eyes, snatching the teddy bear back from your hands. "Tch. Just shut up and eat your stolen chocolates."

You chuckled, popping open the box and holding out a piece to him. "You want one?"

Dabi glanced at it, then at you. Then, with a huff, he leaned in and bit it straight out of your hand.

You gawked. "What the hell—"

"You offered," the white haired man said around the chocolate, smirking as he chewed.

You groaned. "You’re the worst Valentine ever."

"And yet," he drawled, stuffing his hands back into his pockets, "you still put up with me."

A beat of silence.

Then you stated, “We need to go."

“Why?”

"Because there are at least ten people recording you right now, dumbass."

Dabi whipped around, eyes narrowing as he saw several people very clearly aiming their phones in his direction and then moving their cameras to the burnt billboard.

One of the bystanders even waved enthusiastically, shouting, "I loved your dance, Dabi!!!"

Dabi let out a slow, exaggerated sigh, dragging a hand down his face, yet his lips twitched into that cocky, half-smirk he wore when he was either annoyed or slightly amused.

You couldn’t help yourself — you burst into laughter. “Uuuu, honey, you have some fans!”

Before you could get another word out, Dabi grabbed your wrist with a sudden force, yanking you away from the crowd. "Time to go, smartass," he announced, pulling you along as he bolted into a side alley. 

You barely had time to keep up, stumbling slightly as he pulled you into the shadows. 

Behind you, the distant murmurs of amused pedestrians lingered, but no one was stupid enough to actually follow.

Soon, Dabi came to a stop, chest heaving lightly from the sudden run, his eyes scanning the street. 

You could feel his pulse quickening as he tugged you closer, pressing you against his chest with a quiet growl. 

His expression was a mix of frustration and amusement, clearly annoyed by the public attention. "Damn it," he muttered, brushing a hand through his snow-white hair.

You smirked, shaking your head. "Maybe if you stopped doing dumb shit in public, people wouldn’t recognize you."

“Yeah,” he replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

"Happy Valentine’s, firebug,” you whispered, climbing your tippy toes to kiss his lips.

Dabi huffed a quiet laugh after the kiss. "Yeah, yeah. Happy fucking Valentine’s."

For all his bitching and moaning about Valentine’s Day, Dabi didn’t mind it quite as much when it was with you.

@pixelcafe-network

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 !

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

fantasy scribbles

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

this beautiful prose piece will be engraved in my heart, if you visit please give it a read. they are overflowing with beautiful words and emotions. it made my heart burn my belly flip and i could feel the flowers blooming in my gut. i want to experience love as pure as this

012. CARNATIONS

Friday morning came all the same—and the pending sadness you believed to come with the sunrise never did. Yes, it was your last day here at the Todoroki household. But knowing you and Touya would be going back to the hospital together was reassuring enough to soothe all your nerves.

The majority of breakfast was filled with secret smiles passed between you and Touya. His eyes were always wandering—always trailing back to you. And the sensation of his heated gaze alone made your head feel like it had been stuffed to the brim with cotton.

The Todorokis didn't notice anything off between you and Touya—he was always close by when you were near, but he seemed to be a little more clinger than usual.

But you were Touya's anchor. You grounded him. You made him feel safe, wanted, loved—so many emotions he wasn't used to having. It was overwhelming, all these new emotions. But he welcomed the tidal wave of feelings in with open arms. He would drown in this emotion if he could. He's not sure if there's a name for it, but Touya had become entirely dependent on you.

You didn't notice this—but every chance Touya got, he kept some part of his body touching yours. It could just be his shoulder bumping gently against yours, or his pinky grazing your knee under the table—any little touch would work to that keep that insatiable craving of his fed.

Touya ability to feel was... odd. He either felt something with every fiber of his being, or he felt nothing at all. His love was fierce, a forest fire all in its own. It was consuming, it was something that spread until it dominated everything.

Touya loved like he hated, with a burning passion.

Just hearing your name was enough to make Touya raise his head and tune into whatever conversation was going on. Actually hearing your voice had an entirely different effect on him—because suddenly, his pupils are dilating and he can't hear a single sound besides the words leaving your lips—and Touya has to physically fight the urge to press his fingers against the column of your throat just so he can feel the vibrations of your voice box as you speak

His family's goodbye was bittersweet. But even though Touya was leaving—this was not goodbye forever.

Touya was getting better day by day. His physical and mental wounds were being healed by your sparkling eyes and doting hands, and he's surrendering all he was and ever will be to you.

This past week had been heaven on earth for Touya. As he got into the backseat of the van with you, he was already looking forward to working more on writing his letters to Shoto back at the hospital. You'd help him like always—because you're the best. You're the best doctor, friend, and companion he could ask for—you're the best everything.

The drive back is peaceful. Most of the roads are empty due to how early in the day it is, but Touya doesn't mind it at all. It gives him a greater view of Japan's scenery outside. The rolling green hills and the snow coated branches of trees creates a whimsical view for him to quietly appreciate and admire.

You're asleep with your head resting on Touya's shoulder, and he has his cheek smushed against the side of your head. He keeps one hand intertwined with yours, and he uses his other hand to keep his fingertips pressed against your pulse point—the reassuring beating of your heart is a calming melody.

The drive is a little over an hour, but he's back within the familiar hospital walls soon enough.

While walking down the hallway with you, Touya was practically glued to your side. The pristine walls and floors of the hospital made him a little uneasy sometimes, but he was looking forward to returning to his little room soon enough.

You're telling Touya about how there's going to be a storm tomorrow, and how you'd just gotten a statewide notification on your phone. He's nodding his head along to your words—before his eyes catch on another patient’s door that's been left ajar.

Every patient had identical rooms. They all had the tall wooden doors and silver handles for their entrance and bathroom. Each room had a hospital bed, a side table, a TV, a small coffee table with two chairs, and a pull out bed.

But as Touya's eyes looked over to take in this patient's room, he couldn't help but notice how much more different it was from his own.

There were no paper snowflakes hanging from the windows. There were no colorful pens scattered over tables and pages of unfinished letters strewn across the room. There were no board games, no uno cards scattered all over the bed. There wasn't a single sign of life in there besides the half empty coffee mug sitting on the edge of the patient's bedside table.

There was no you, he decided.

Touya's quiet the rest of the way to his room.

Touya didn't believe in luck or fate, those invisible forces didn't feel like they applied to someone like him. They were saved for ordinary people—people like you who deserved good things.

But what else could explain your presence in his life? He certainly didn't deserve you, Touya was sure of that. He didn't deserve anything after the war. He nearly lost his family, but he didn't. He nearly lost an arm, but he didn't. He nearly lost his life, but he didn't.

But you weren't a product of fate or luck—no, meeting you was some sort of a divine intervention.

Touya, you deserve to be happy too.

He remembers when you had uttered those words to him one night when his thoughts had trailed too far again, and he had scoffed at you then. He snapped at you, telling you to go away because you clearly don't see how he doesn't deserve shit.

He winces at the unwanted memory. Those were the earlier days when he was still warming up to you, and he'll forever regret taking his misdirected hurt out on you, of all people. But even after he acted out and behaved like a total brat, you still loved him. You had seen the ugliest parts of Touya, seen him at his worst, seen him at his absolute lowest—and you were still here. Right by his side, just like you'd promised.

Maybe he does deserve you. And for once, he doesn't feel selfish for the thought. Touya can love too—he can be kind and he can be gentle. He knows his depraved sense of humor somehow manages to make you laugh, he knows the spot right under your ear is weak and ticklish for his kisses, and he knows you love him.

Touya doesn't even notice the two of you have finally reached his room until he accidentally walks right into your back. A small sound of surprise leaves your lips before you smile. He blinks himself out of his daze before stretching his lips into that handsome smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat.

Wordlessly, Touya tugs you through the door. He never thought this hospital room would become something he'd miss—but he recognizes the space he had grown into and come to love. Yes, this was a room filled with memories he never wanted to forget. Countless nights he'd spent laughing till his stomach hurt with you, and even more nights where he spilled his heart's darkest secrets to you.

And suddenly, Touya realizes it was a room that felt more like home than the Todoroki household ever did.

Touya's hug is unusually tight. He bundles you up in his arms and cradles the back of your head to his chest, his arms wound tight around your form. You can sense he's overwhelmed by something he can't voice—so you do what you're best at.

Your hands move up and down the length of his back, rubbing big and comforting circles. His lips are slow as they meet yours, and his blunt fingertips dip gentle crescent moons into your skin as he holds your face

"I love you," He whispers, his voice hoarse and cracking with emotion. You're cooing softly as you help him into bed, whispering affirmations into his ear that have him practically collapsing in your arms. He's being babied—Touya knows he is.

But God, it felt good to finally feel like he was worth something.

You didn't leave Touya's room until you could absolutely confirm he had drifted into dreamland. Touya fell asleep smiling, and the sight was so precious that you almost didn't want to leave.

You sink your teeth into your bottom lip gently, chewing on it as you board the elevator towards the end of the hall. You hit the down button, fingers curling around the strap of your bag as you tap your foot against the ground idly.

The metals doors slide open with ease after a few moments, the gentle ding! sounding through the small space, indicating you had arrived onto the ground floor.

But the sight you're met with on the other side of the door makes you want to drag the metal doors close with your bare hands and slam the up button as hard as you can—

And suddenly, your hands feel clammy and your mouth goes dry as your supervisor tugs you along with clouded eyes—her mouth is set into a firm line, and your colleagues flutter around you nervously. All of their faces are twisted with an emotion you don't understand—and your heart positively drops to the floor when you're pulled into a meeting room with Enji Todoroki sitting at the front.

Enji's shoulders are squared, and he's hunched forward just the slightest bit as his gaze narrows in on you. Someone's telling you to sit down—but you can't breathe. Your chest physically hurts as your supervisor leads you to a chair as gently as she can manage—her usual hard gaze is broken, completely shattered and revealing the unspoken sadness beneath

And you finally realize. They know—because Enji is suddenly tossing a handful of blurry photographs onto the table. He's yelling loudly at someone, his tone rough and demanding attention. But you can't meet his gaze, and your eyes are burning like he's lit them on fire himself.

Because those are pictures of you and Touya kissing. Those are pictures of you and Touya holding hands. Those are pictures of you and Touya murmuring lowly to each other with your foreheads pressed together.

The photographs are grainy—they were obviously taken at night, and it looked like they were taken through a God damn window. It sounds like someone is yelling at Enji for spying, but you can't find the strength to try and organize the chaos around you

This wasn't supposed to happen. You promised yourself nothing like this would happen.

"She clearly isn't suitable enough to decide when I can visit my son. The nerve this woman has to say she may never allow me to see him again is ridiculous. He is my son, and she clearly isn't a good doctor if she has relations like this with him."

He grills you down with that forever present scowl, and the tears brimming in your eyes are traitorous as they roll down your cheeks silently

Enji did all of this because he wanted to see Touya sooner. He spied on you to find something to use against you. And he had just unknowingly ruined your entire career.

People who can swim in their money and power are careless when it comes to people who are nowhere near as privileged. They don't understand how delicate some situations are—and how power and money can't solve every problem. A muscle in Enji's jaw ticks when your supervisor's trembling voice speaks up—telling him that you'll be removed immediately from Touya's care.

"Fired? No, no that's not what I need. What I need is for another doctor to reevaluate Touya's condition and understand that he is ready to see me. I know I was an unexpected visitor the last time I came, but—"

Your supervisor cuts him off sharply

"You have presented us with photo evidence of Y/n breaking company policy. It doesn't matter what your goal was from all of this, because now we have no choice but to fire her. You blew up and sent these to the hospital's board and all the higher ups before speaking to us about the situation directly. They're erasing all of her files as we speak."

Something in Enji's hard gaze falters at her words

"In your email to the board, you described the situation as if Y/n took advantage of Touya's mental state. You made her look like—like a monster. And she was the best thing to happen to your son." She spat, words calculated and cruel as she glares at Enji with nothing but hatred simmering in her gaze

The cries you had been trying so desperately to hold back finally escape, and a strangled sob leaves your lips. The broken sound tears through the air like a knife. Enji blinks as if he doesn't understand a single word that leaves your supervisor's lips before his eyes harden again

"I don't want her fired—"

"But that's what's going to happen! What else could you expect?" She explodes, tears of frustration in her eyes as she grips the back of your chair with trembling fingers

You've worked under this woman for years. She was a constant in your work life–and she'd helped you become a wonderful doctor over time. But this one slip up—one that could've been controlled if Enji hadn't intervened—would mean the end of your time here.

And Enji knows you were the only doctor Touya was willing to cooperate with. The only one he would even listen to.

"Did you know we had to add another month to Touya's rehabilitation plan when Y/n took one sick day? He behaved absolutely terribly in those few hours. He went backwards in terms of progress. And now, Y/n will not be allowed to treat him ever again. Do you understand what you've done?"

And reality finally slaps Enji in the face. Hard. Because his entire demeanor deflates in a second as his face falls

He finally glances at you, and you're an absolute wreck.

You're tugging at your hair, your lips are quivering as you struggle to stay quiet and keep your emotions in check. Even though it didn't matter if you started wailing at the top of your lungs—you had already lost your job, there was no need to try and compose yourself now. But you remain ever professional, stifling your cries as much as you can as your chin wobbles.

Someone's rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you, and Enji takes a step away from you like he's been physically struck

You had just failed Touya. You failed him.

He was sleeping blissfuly unaware a few floors up, oblivious to the fact that your carelessness was going to destroy everything you had worked so hard on building

Touya's heart is fragile. He was going to break.

Touya needs you like an artist needs their muse. Touya needs you like a dancer needs their music. Being separated from you would be like tearing a flower out of the ground—he would just wilt and waste away until there was nothing left.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; i know a lot of people talk about touya's eyes but wow...they really are so beautiful. like, they are other worldly. i'm rewatching clips of him and oh my goshh he is my muse forever and ever idfc how many new interests i get over the years. no one can come close to the place he has in my heart. 🥺

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