VOTE TOMURA SHIGARAKI FOR WORLD BEST HERO!!

VOTE TOMURA SHIGARAKI FOR WORLD BEST HERO!!

I know I have!!

myheroacademia.worldbesthero.com/en/vote/57/

DEAD RECKONING : TODOROKI TOUYA x READER

SUMMARY: A makeup artist at a haunted maze, all you want to do is make it to the end of the season with a little extra cash in your pocket and no murder convictions on your record. Scare actor Todoroki Touya makes that last part a challenge. (7.8k) CONTENT & WARNINGS: no quirks au, halloween, enemies to lovers, fem + afab reader, slight scumbag touya, haunted maze workers, smut, semi-public sex, smoking, heavy swearing, touya likes having his hair pulled + girls who are a little mean to him, sort of good girl vs bad boy vibes, 18+ minors please dni NOTES: Happy Halloween from me!! This fic is part of the Willow's Haunted House collab. Dedicated to cat-slippered and ofmermaidstories, for workshopping what eventually became this fic with me about a thousand years ago. I’m sorry I turned Bakugou into Dabi. And I’m sorry for dedicating the now Dabi fic to you. But not sorry enough to not have done it. Love you. :)

If there was one thing you hated about Halloween, it was Todoroki Touya.

Shockingly, this was not a commonly-held sentiment, which was the only reason there even was a recurrence of Todoroki Touya darkening your Halloween seasons in the first place.

For the last three years, you’d spent your fall semester working as a makeup artist at the Musutafu haunted maze alongside a slew of other college and local kids looking to make a little extra cash. The hours were fairly flexible, and the wage covered your textbooks, with a little left over to keep you in the occasional coffee between lectures.

But your wages did not nearly cover the amount of psychic damage you had been dealt, managing Todoroki Touya’s obnoxious, sarcastic, chain-smoking ass day after day for seasons on end.

On lucky days, someone else was on Touya duty. But on unlucky ones, you found him sprawling in the plastic makeup chair opposite you, those intense blue eyes tracking you with no small amount of pleasure, like he was this afternoon.

You stopped in the doorway, a curse slipping out of you. You’d been hoping that you’d get lucky today, as the day was otherwise an excellent one. You’d invited a group of friends to do the maze with you after you got off shift, and you had been looking forward to it all week.

But it figured Touya could never let you have too good of a time.

“Missed you too, sweetheart,” he drawled over the noise of displeasure that escaped you. He was at least already dressed in costume, so he wouldn’t go smearing his makeup as he pulled it on, a tumble of stitches and frayed edges that had once been a dark-blue duster, but now just mostly gaped open to show the hard planes of his chest.

“I’m so sure,” you told him, averting your eyes from his pecs. You sighed, resigning yourself to his presence, and made your way in, dumping your bag on the staff room couch.

“This is a very hostile work environment you’re creating,” Touya rasped, his grin sharp. Years of chain-smoking outside the maze had left his voice even lower and raspier than when you’d first met him three years ago.

“Don’t worry, it can always get more hostile,” you told him, affecting your own sweet grin as you moved over to the vanity, digging through all the makeup and prosthetics for the ones he’d need.

Touya himself was severely scarred, which was likely why he’d applied to work at the haunted maze in the first place. You’d never asked him about his scars, but you’d heard enough gossip from the other maze workers to know that they were the product of a childhood accident, involving the burning down of his father’s—the then-and-current mayor’s—house.

He’d accentuated them with a shit load of facial piercings, and was sort of off-putting to look at the first time you caught a glimpse of him. The issue was that, once your eyes made sense of what they were seeing, he was infuriatingly handsome.

You’d heard he’d initially been unleashed on the maze with no makeup or prosthetics, and within the first evening was causing line backups, with all the parties of teen girls who were taking a little too much time lingering around his section of the maze.

So now he was subjected to prosthetics to make him uglier, a fact that he seemed to absolutely relish.

You dug out the monster prosthetic pack that gave him jutting forehead ridges. “Let’s make the outside reflect the inside, shall we,” you told him as you flapped the rubbery pieces at him, smirking your own little smirk.

Touya’s answering grin was wicked, and he relaxed back in his seat, sprawling his legs out wide in that infuriating way men had. “Think my outside is too pretty then, huh?” he asked, sapphire eyes flickering over you.

Your face went hot in a weird combination of anger and embarrassment. “I try not to think of your outside,” you told him pertly, making sure to slap the forehead piece onto him hard enough to make a splat noise.

His mouth twitched again but he let you go to work, gluing the pieces down against his face, careful not to press them to the seams of any of his scars. He was tall enough even lounging in his seat that you only had to lean over a little to focus clearly on his face, all long legs and rangy muscle.

This close, he always smelled like cigarette smoke, with an undercurrent of something rich and dark, like cinnamon or chocolate. You could never put your finger on it, but you were not about to go sniffing him at any length to figure it out, even if it was annoyingly appealing.

He’d probably love that, and would absolutely never let you live it down.

Touya’s eyes tracked you closely as you worked, but otherwise his expression was still, and you thought not for the first time that it really was too bad he was so obnoxious. He was actually quite handsome, with a soft, sensuous mouth, a blade-straight nose, and vivid blue eyes that all but glowed like the embers of a crackling fire when he was provoking you.

It was a shame he wasted all his beauty being the most annoying man on earth.

You’d heard from the other maze workers that he was relatively well-known around the area, having spent his teen years doing petty criminal shit to destabilize his father’s reelection campaigns, netting himself several jail stays and a record a mile long. He’d settled somewhat since he’d gotten a job at a piercing parlor downtown and several side gigs like the maze, but people weren’t fully convinced he’d abandoned his old ways, and he still clearly relished any opportunity to discomfort and destabilize anyone who got on his bad side.

Apparently including you.

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking too hard, sweetheart,” Touya said, those cerulean eyes blinking up at you.

You realized you’d paused over him, midway through blending his prosthetic forehead in, and another annoying little smirk rode his mouth.

You took care to roll your eyes at him, gesturing at him with your brush. “I know several places I can stick this if you’re not careful.”

Touya’s smirk melted into an unholy grin. “Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he rasped, eyes glittering up at you.

You went back to work on him with a little more force than necessary, blending hard enough that you saw his broad shoulders shift in an effort to keep his neck braced. “I doubt any time with you could be classed as good,” you said pertly, giving a final few brushes before stepping back, satisfied with your work.

The forehead made him look unhinged as he offered another smirk, leaning forward. “True—the feedback I usually get is ‘incredible’, ‘mind-blowing’, ‘earth-shattering’, ‘toe-curling’, ‘scream-inducing’—”

“Oh I’ll scream if you keep talking,” you said hotly, even as your cheeks warmed. Even with the stupid fucking forehead he was annoyingly handsome. You needed him a thousand million miles away from you before you herniated something, jumping back and forth between annoyance and attraction.

Maybe it was time to stop signing up to work here.

“Now get out of my room, I have other people waiting,” you commanded, thankful when you heard the scuff of a boot at the door confirming another maze worker waiting.

Touya didn’t look at all chastened, but he unfolded himself from the chair in an unfurling of broad shoulders and long legs. He leaned in close as he passed, voice dipping low. “See you later, sweetheart,” he said, a smile curling his mouth.

Annoyingly, his proximity crossed a bunch of the wires in your brain, and you fumbled before managing, “Not if we’re both lucky.”

“Stop, I’ll blush,” he drawled, another unholy grin splitting his cheeks before he saluted two fingers at you and ducked out of the room. The scent of smoke and cinnamon followed him, and you let out a sigh of relief, the air and your brain clearer now that he was gone.

No sooner were you free of him, however, than another problem was immediately introduced.

“So…he actually talks to you?” The other maze worker’s head poked through the door, her eyes resting on you intently. You recognized her as a local highschooler who’d just joined this season, who usually ended up getting in early enough to get her makeup done by the other artist.

You blinked. “I…unfortunately?” you answered, confused.

She stepped into the room, and you reflexively gestured her over to the chair that Touya had just abandoned.

She hummed as she took her seat, eyeing you curiously. “Wow. How’d you get him to do that? He doesn’t really talk to any of us,” she informed you.

You could feel your eyebrows lift towards your hairline. “He…doesn’t…?”

She shook her head, her pretty golden ringlets swaying with the motion. “He’ll chainsmoke with Tomura and he sometimes talks to Himiko. But the other girls—they say he just laughs and walks away if they try to chat with him.”

Well. That sounded rude enough to be true to form, you thought. But when Touya was in your makeup chair you couldn’t get him to shut the hell up. You shifted, uncomfortable with the idea that Touya had any special soft spot for you. Maybe, like a cat, he could sense who didn’t much like him and decided to latch on out of spite.

“You might be a little young for him,” you decided, going over to the vanity and digging out the prosthetics she’d need—a witch chin and a raised gorey slash that would open along one cheekbone.

“No—it’s all the other girls too. And most of the guys,” she told you. “He must like you.”

A laugh escaped you, and you turned back to her with the prosthetics in hand, a few new brushes and a white, cakey paint palette shoved beneath your elbow.

“I don’t think he likes anyone,” you told her, setting everything down and applying the tacky glue to the underside of her chin prosthetic. “I think he just likes to inflict himself on people he knows it will annoy. You could act disinterested in talking to him and he’d probably come flitting right over.” The image of Touya suffering at the hands of a league of flirty high school girls pleased you—better they suck up his time and energy than you.

“I don’t know,” the girl said uncertainly. “Maybe he likes you.” But she was forced to leave it at that once you started applying her chin, making it difficult for her to speak.

You certainly didn’t think that was the case.

But the seeds of doubt had already been sown, a question that you thought would probably haunt your evening now that it had been formed. Just why did Touya talk to you if he was so standoffish with other people? And what did it mean that he made such a point of it?

You knew for sure it wasn’t because he liked you, his obnoxious manner said that well enough. But why did you get treatment that was significant enough that even the other maze workers would comment on it?

And, perhaps even more concerningly, why did the thought agitate you so much?

You decided to try your best not to think about it, and have a good time with your friends once they got there, putting Touya out of your mind. You returned to doing the girl’s makeup with vigor, suddenly as eager to get her out of your chair as you had been Touya.

She was finished in record time and she thanked you, carefully not to smile too widely lest she dislodge the prosthetics. You took in the next person waiting as she left, slowly working your way through the line of people as the hour drew ever closer to the maze’s evening opening time.

Eventually you finished up and collected your things, making your way out front to find your friends already waiting for you. They’d clearly dressed with the intent to go out after—something you hadn’t considered—their dresses short and slinky and their makeup smoky. You’d have liked to have joined, but you were still in the sweater and leggings you’d come straight from lectures in.

Maybe you would have time to go home and change after the maze.

You were scooped up into several hugs, breathing in the sweet scents of various perfumes, and informed that you absolutely did have to go home and get changed after so you could come out and get “Hallowasted!” too.

“Okay if I’m not busy peeing my pants, which monsters are the ones you did?” your roommate asked, dancing around to warm herself in the cool fall air. “I wanna see ‘em.”

You named several of your creations, conveniently leaving off Touya. You knew that if your friends took too close a look at him and figured out what he looked like under the cakey makeup and forehead prosthetic, they’d never leave the maze. You knew he sat somewhere around the end of the set up, in an alcove that had been decorated to look like an abandoned village with burned out cabins, a mess of bones dotting the ground at the side of the walkway.

You were also hoping you could pass unnoticed in the group of your friends, as there was no doubt in your mind that Touya would take special care to annoy you in particular. So you did not want your group to linger long enough for your friends to scope him out.

You would know it was him under the makeup you’d done yourself, but being cornered somewhere in the dark with the soundtrack of screams echoing in your ears would not exactly have you feeling your boldest.

Your group had dinner at the food trucks parked out front, chatting and laughing and waiting for the crowds to die down, each indulging in one drink for bravery before joining the line. Eventually you ended up at the front of the queue, late in the evening, your friends crowding in behind you, whispering nervously.

“You first,” your roommate hissed when you looked back at them questioningly. “You work here, you have to do the honors.”

You sighed, accepting your fate, making a mental note to subtly shift to the back of the pack as you made it further into the maze.

Then you were being greeted by Shigaraki Tomura, whose makeup you’d done last. He’d been given layers of prosthetic peeling skin and a scar at his mouth, and he was decorated with a layer of disembodied hands gripping him all over. He shredded your tickets, looking unenthused.

“Remember that inside the maze, none of the monsters can touch you,” he recited dully. “You are not permitted to touch them in return; do not hit, kick, push, bite, slap, lick, scratch, or otherwise assault the actors. Don’t tamper with the props, do not leave items behind. Be respectful of other guests and do not linger too long in the rooms. If you need to leave for any reason, every room or alcove has clearly-lit exits marked in red.”

His eyes briefly met yours as he waved you through, and you thought you saw a pale brow go up.

But then you were being shoved forward by your friends, several hands clinging to your arms and the back of your shirt, and you stepped forward into the dark of the hall.

The maze truly was a labyrinth—it started indoors in a pitch black room, with fake body bags hanging from the ceiling. Toga Himiko, a highschooler whose makeup you usually did, stalked you around the edges of the room, dressed in a torn school uniform with fangs peeking out of her widely grinning mouth, and a dripping knife clutched eagerly in her fingers.

Once you made it past her, the maze spilled outdoors, into a tangle of hedges and artificially-constructed set, steering you in twisting loops around the property.

You were pleased with how terrifying all the actors looked, even having done most of their prosthetics yourself, and found your heart racing as you took every new corner, found yourself freezing up and stumbling back whenever someone jumped out at you, suppressing a shriek.

Your friends participated with gusto, shrieking and ducking away from the monsters, holding you like a human shield between them and the maze workers. You would have been insulted if it hadn’t been so funny.

You made it through most of the maze with little trouble, passing through a haunted swamp, a graveyard with mummies twisting and screaming in their bindings, grasping for you. You stumbled past a man wielding a chainsaw and a set of clowns waving axes, making it through in record time thanks to the push of your frantic friends behind you.

It was only on the last leg of the maze that you finally ran into Touya.

You peered around the corner, recognizing the set up instantly. The burned out houses flickered with blue flame, lighting up the set in an eerie, unsettling sapphire light. The fake bones on the ground sat in piles of ash, glowing stark white in the light. You couldn’t spot Touya anywhere, and you slowly crept forward, trying to shepherd your friends in front of you.

You even almost thought you had been successful, until a rasping voice drawled behind you, “Hello sweetheart.”

And then your roommate screamed, bolting forward, knocking into you and sending you stumbling over a pile of the fake bones. You landed hard on your ass in the patchy grass, the wind punching out of you.

“Oh fuck—” you heard one of your friends say as she too was steamrolled, and you watched the group of them trip over one another in their desperation to get through the alcove, dissolving into chaos in a matter of seconds.

You quickly tried to get to your feet to follow, but a hiss forced its way through your teeth when you tried your ankle, a wave of sharp pain washing over you.

Oh fuck. Not good.

The tread of a boot in the grass next to you made you jump, and your head whipped up to catch sight of Touya crouching over you.

“You good down there?” he asked. His eyes glinted in the dark of the maze, and the blue light cast shadows over his features, twisting them in the dim. Your heartbeat picked up, even as your brain recognized him for who he was.

You cringed, embarrassed that you’d had to hurt yourself in his part of the maze specifically. It figured.

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, trying to climb to your feet again. Your ankle twinged in protest, and Touya must have caught the flash of pain on your face because then his hand was under your elbow, supporting you as you rose in an unexpected show of courtesy.

Although he broke the illusion immediately when he opened his mouth again.

“Yeah you look real fine,” he said, quirking an eyebrow. With the prosthetic forehead it made him look sort of demented.

“Well I’ll be fine,” you insisted, even as those blue eyes flickered over you assessingly. His fingers tightened a little on your arm before he bent down, tapping his other hand on your leg.

“Which leg, sweetheart?” he asked. “And where?”

It took you a minute to catch up to what he was asking, confused at seeing him on his haunches before you. A scream went up in the background, some terrified maze goer, and a little shiver went down your spine.

“Uh, the left ankle,” you supplied, startling when Touya’s fingers slid underneath the cuff of your legging over the aforementioned ankle, rolling it up gently. You blinked, surprised at the careful touch.

“Can’t see too well in the dark,” he announced. “But it looks like you ripped it open on something.” He peered back up at you. “Think it’s sprained?”

You shook your head. “Probably just rolled. It hurts but not like go-to-the-hospital level,” you said. “Just give me a minute, I’ll be good.”

Touya considered you for a moment, then got to his feet, moving closer. That scent of smoke and cinnamon drifted over to you, and he bent his head to look into your face.

“Much as you’re the most terrifying thing in this maze, I don’t think people are gonna wanna see you here,” he told you, a smirk cutting into his mouth. “Would ruin the experience. So we’re gonna have to get you out of here.”

You scowled up at him, crossing your arms over your chest. Well no thanks for the concern, then. “I’m going, I’m going, keep your shirt on,” you told him, preemptively gritting your teeth before readying yourself to take another step.

But before you could, one of Touya’s hands was suddenly sliding under your knees, his other slipping behind your shoulder. In the next second the burning buildings were swinging wildly in front of your eyes, and then you were being hefted up into Touya’s arms. You let out a startled yelp, your own hands shooting out to grab his jacket, giving him a wild-eyed look.

“Touya—!” you garbled out, as a smile pulled at his expression.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he told you, looking a little too smug about the situation he’d just put you in. He strode towards the exit, kicking the door open with a heavy boot, carrying you down the hall and back into the building. He was hard with wiry muscle underneath you, and so deliciously warm against you. Your ears went hot with every sure, easy step he took, like carrying you was little effort for him.

Thankfully it was barely a minute before you reached the staff room, where Touya laid you out gently on the couch, much more carefully than you might have expected from him.

Your cheeks and your nose burned, flaming even hotter when he squatted down in front of you and took your ankle in his hand again.

His dark eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he took note of your injury. In the light you could definitely see that you’d caught your ankle bone on one of the fake bones you’d tripped over, as there was a long gash up the side of it, but nothing else looked bruised or otherwise concerning. You thought you’d probably be fine in a couple hours, just a roll.

It was definitely nothing Touya had needed to princess carry you through the staff halls for!

“Don’t move,” Touya told you, and you watched, bewildered, as he stepped away, stalking over to the other side of the room where the staff lockers were. He dug out a shabby backpack, pulling something out of it, and then returned to your side, spreading out his haul on the couch next to you.

You noted a little tube of rubbing alcohol, an antiseptic cream and a bandage, as well as an ice pack. One of your eyebrows went up.

“You rob a hospital or something?” you asked reflexively, heart fluttering a little bit weirdly when Touya’s eyes flickered back up to yours. His eyelashes were long and thick, startlingly pretty.

“Nah,” he said, his gaze cutting suddenly away from yours. “Usually keep shit on hand for my burns.”

Your stomach flipped, and you realized how rude your question had been. Embarrassment welled up in a hard lump in your throat. Well shit. “Oh—fuck. Of course. I’m sorry, Touya.”

A pinch to your leg had you yelping, and his handsome face was serious when he stared back up at you, his eyes practically glowing with intensity. “I don’t need your sympathy.”

You rolled your eyes, rubbing the skin he’d pinched absentmindedly. “It wasn’t sympathy, asshole,” you said. “It was an apology for being thoughtless. Although if that’s how you’re gonna be then I take it back, geez. As if you need sympathy when every girl in this maze—” you froze, clamping your mouth shut when you realized what you’d been about to say. “Uhhhh.”

Touya’s eyes slowly slid down your face, flickering over you as another fucking obnoxious smirk started to twitch at the side of his mouth. “When every girl in this maze what?” he asked, pleasure turning his tone a little silky.

You rolled your eyes, leaning forward to grab the rubbing alcohol off of the couch so you didn’t have to look at him. “When every girl in this maze would like for you to shut up and stop asking questions,” you said, unscrewing the top with a deliberate focus.

Calloused fingers came up to yank the tube out of your grip, however, and Touya leaned in, his grin sharp and white.

“Lemme do it, sweetheart. Return the favor for my prosthetic,” he said. You winced, remembering how forcefully you’d applied his forehead earlier. As you braced yourself, however, his fingers brushed gently over your skin.

You suppressed a shiver at the feeling of him wiping off the blood with the rubbing alcohol, then going over it with the antibiotic cream, smearing it delicately, your nose going hot again. He took his time, careful to cover every inch, kneeling on the ground in front of you with your ankle clutched in one large hand. His duster fanned out behind him, dragging on the ground as he bent over you, but he didn’t seem to care, too absorbed in his task.

When he was done he carefully applied the bandage too, and you looked on, mystified, as he cracked the ice pack with long, strangely elegant fingers, and pressed it over your ankle bone as well.

His eyes flicked back to yours when you let out a short hiss, feeling the zing of the ice all the way in your teeth. Some of his expression looked squashed, given the obstruction of his prosthetic, but you thought he looked maybe just a little bit concerned, before he realized you were just being a baby. You were suddenly overcome with the urge to rip off his prosthetic so you could see his expression in full, and had to pin your arm to your side to stop yourself.

“This was—unexpected,” you admitted, watching him closely. “You’re…a surprisingly good nurse, Touya. Thank you.”

His answering smile was nothing short of wicked. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

You fumbled with the antiseptic and sniffed pointedly, just to have something to complain about. “Well. Your bedside manner could use some work.”

Touya leaned in, his smile suddenly going dark. “Oh, angel, now that’s not what I’ve been told—”

Your palm shot out to cover his mouth, horror overriding your normal brain function. Touya just laughed into the skin of your hand, however, shockingly boyish and sweet-sounding.

You pressed harder, hissing at him to shut the hell up, until you registered the feeling of dry, raised skin under your fingers. You jumped, realizing you were pressing down on his scars.

“Shit, did I hurt you—?” you asked, yanking your hand back, only for Touya to catch your wrist. He blinked, looking surprised that he had.

“No it’s—you didn’t—” he said. His fingers shifted over yours and his eyes darted over your hand in something like shock. “They get dry and pull but they don’t—it wasn’t that.” He sounded annoyed, but not that you’d touched him. That you’d pulled away from touching him.

Somehow, that settled you. Before you understood what exactly was possessing you, you reached back in, satisfied when Touya let you. The pads of your fingers met the edge of a scar again, feeling along the seam. You carefully traced over it the way Touya’s had just traced the cut on your ankle.

Touya’s eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a slow breath. “You don’t need to touch ‘em, sweetheart,” he said finally.

He said it as lightly as he’d said all his earlier nonsense, but he’d been giving you shit for long enough that you recognized there was something deliberate about the ease of his tone this time. This wasn’t his usual, natural timbre.

“Does it bother you?” you asked.

It seemed to take him a minute to decide.

“...No,” he answered, those cerulean eyes catching on yours again. You felt like you could feel your heartbeat in your own fingers, and your skin prickled with something—annoyingly not annoyance.

“Well then shut up,” you told him. “Or I’ll pinch you right on the seam.”

Touya laughed, a slow rolling sound. “Promises promises,” he said, but he seemed more relaxed.

You felt along the contours of his face, mystified by what the hell you thought you were even doing, until you reached the edge of the prosthetic you’d applied. It only took a second for you to give in to the impulse you’d had earlier and start peeling it from his skin, slow and deliberate.

You reached down and helped yourself to the rubbing alcohol, applying it around the prosthetic, letting it dissolve the adhesive before pulling gently. Shockingly, Touya let you do it. He just sat there, watching you with an intensity you’d never experienced before, hardly blinking.

You kept careful track of the prosthetic, unable to look him in the eye, focusing on rubbing off the makeup you’d used to blend it in for good measure. You tried not to examine the weirdly satisfied feeling that settled in your stomach when his natural face was visible to you again.

It was probably just his looks. He really was so handsome for such a grating personality.

You set the prosthetic aside, lost on where to go from here. Touya probably thought you were so fucking weird for just like, rubbing his face like he was some kind of cat. He certainly looked like he had no idea what to do now, which was such a departure from his usually snotty self-assurance that it threw you for an even bigger loop.

“Always thought you’d be a little rougher with me, sweetheart,” Touya finally managed, flashing you a smirk. It looked a little smaller than usual though, like he was drawing it up like a shield, but your hackles raised instantly, like always.

You always, always responded to him.

“Trust me, that can be arranged,” you promised darkly, trying to crack your knuckles. Only one of them crackled obligingly, however, and Touya blinked, before laughing again.

“Yeah?” he asked, leaning in closer. Cigarette smoke and cinnamon clouded your senses, fogging up your brain. “Gonna fuck me up nice and good, sweetheart?”

You dredged around for something snarky to say, but words were suddenly failing you as those infuriatingly pretty features drew closer. Seriously could a makeup artist not catch a break around here?

“Uhhh,” was all you managed, your brain bluescreening, as Touya huffed a laugh, exhaling over your mouth.

“Shut up,” you finally spat out, catching a fistful of that black hair. Touya groaned, however, looking like he liked that of all things, and a red hot flash of something jolted through you.

There was a pause, then, a tiny sliver of a moment where it seemed like one of you might pull back—move away and snipe at one another from a safer distance.

Things somehow seemed to be spiraling out of control, in a way you hadn’t expected, after just one kind gesture from him. You didn’t really understand how you’d suddenly found yourself with him leaning over you, your hand pulling at his hair, but if you had any good sense you’d have pulled away immediately and told him something extra mean, just for good measure.

Except then Touya opened his mouth and escalated things, as usual.

“Make me,” he said, the most absolutely heinous line of all time. You yanked his hair harder, deeply disgusted that he’d try that on you.

And then, like a thread had snapped, you leaned forward and crushed your mouth to his.

Touya reacted like a lightning strike. He surged up over you, weighing you down into the staff room couch. He tasted like spearmint muddled under bitter smoke, and he was broader than he looked under that duster, heavy with lean muscle. You could feel every kilo of it press you down into the cushions as Touya licked hot and filthy into your mouth.

His tongue curled around yours, wet and teasing, and he exhaled on a groan like he’d never tasted anything better. It sent little sparks of electricity jittering up your spine, especially as he shifted between your thighs, that trim waist slotting between them perfectly.

“Fuck, angel,” he said, his tone somewhere between sweet and nasty. “Wanted me this whole time, huh?”

You yanked harder on his hair, telling him to shut up, but the swelling of something hard against your thigh told you he only liked that more. “You are so nasty,” you told him, and you could feel his mouth curl into a wicked grin against the side of your face, before he leaned in and bit the shell of your ear, grinding the evidence of his interest even harder into your thigh.

“I can show you nasty, sweetheart,” he promised, his tone going silky-soft again. A calloused hand slid up into your shirt brazenly, long fingers teasing the underside of your bra. When you didn’t immediately try to yank him out of there he wiggled in further, until his fingers met your nipples, and he got even harder against your leg.

He pinched carefully, moving back to kiss you again so that the sound that escaped you was muffled into his mouth. He kissed you harder as your nipples tightened, pebbling in his fingers, something far too satisfied filling the air around you. His hips canted up, grinding himself into you again, this time a little closer to your core.

Your own hips shifted, moving to increase the friction, trying to shift him closer to your center. His fingers and tongue teased you, each flick of his tongue mirroring the caress of a finger, the soft pinch of his index and thumb.

You couldn’t have controlled yourself if you wanted, too focused on the sensations he was drawing from you, the desperate need to get closer to him though you were already pressed together from mouth to shin. You realized you’d been pulling at his coat when he finally withdrew from your shirt and let you yank it down his arms, exposing a patchwork of scars over dense, mouth-wateringly well-defined muscle.

You inhaled sharply, and Touya paused for a minute—until he seemed to realize that you were fixated on the shape of his arm, rather than the purple bruise of scar tissue. The quickening of his grin in the corner of your vision told you that you’d pleased him.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he asked, his voice obnoxiously sweet. “Want to see the rest of me, angel?”

You ripped your eyes off of his arm to glare at him, which only made his grin wider. The fluorescent lights behind him limned his hair in a pale light, blinding you when he moved his head—and all of a sudden you recalled where you were and what you were doing.

“Here? No! Touya, anyone could walk in!” you said, trying to scramble out from beneath him.

Touya caught you around the thigh, hauling you back underneath him. You noticed he was careful to angle your leg up so you didn’t catch your ankle against the arm of the couch.

“This is far from the worst thing I’ve done in a public place,” he said, laying himself back out over you.

You pushed at his shoulder though, casting a worried glance back at the door. “I am not trying to get fired,” you hissed, even as you shivered with the delicious heat of him over you.

Touya sighed through his nose, and then heaved himself off the couch. You watched him seize the plastic makeup chair and haul it over to the door, stuffing it under the knob at an angle so that it held the lock in place. Then he turned around and prowled right back to you with predatory intent. Your stomach fluttered.

“Better, angel?” he asked, tone soft.

You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of nodding, but he seemed to know what you wanted anyway, leaning back in to kiss you fiercely.

You melted into the feeling of his mouth over yours, kissing him back just as passionately. You hated how good he was at that, hated how pretty he was under all those scars and piercings, hated how his obnoxious personality wasn’t even a factor in what you wanted to do with him right now.

Touya groaned again when you pulled at a fistful of his dark hair, and then you were dragging him down to the couch and climbing into his lap. Touya seized your left leg as you did, pointedly guiding your ankle away from the edge of the seat, and it only inflamed your desire for him.

“Like you a whole lot better like this,” he said into your mouth, as calloused fingers slid into your leggings.

Your reply was cut off by a moan as he traced his index finger lightly over the center of your panties, before pressing down firmly over your clit. A thousand little points of electricity lit up under your skin, and you shifted into his hand unthinkingly.

A smile formed against your lips, and it was only Touya’s hand making its way into your panties that suppressed the annoyed buzz that started in the back of your brain.

“You kick up such a fuss, sweetheart, but look at what you really think of me,” Touya purred as his fingers slid up into your incriminatingly wet folds. “All this for me, angel?”

You wanted to bite him for his cheek but you feared breaking the skin of his scars, so you settled for giving him a pointed look. He just laughed, his smile smug.

“I’ll show you what I’ve really thought of you too, sweetheart,” he promised, taking hold of your leg again to slide your leggings and panties down. He settled you back over the hard line in his pants, grabbing your hips and pulling you firmly down over it, grinning.

“Love when you’re a spitfire little fucking brat. I’ve imagined taking you right over the vanity every single day for the last three years, sweetheart. Taking you against the lockers and then right here over the couch. Fucking you so hard that you scream and everyone comes running in to see you squirming and crying and begging on my cock, and you want it so much that you don’t even care—”

He laughed when he felt you clench up in his lap, working to unbuckle his belt and free himself, immediately angling you over him. “You want that too, sweetheart? Want to see if I can make you scream so loud that people come to see what’s wrong?”

“My god you never shut up,” you told him, pointedly avoiding the question. In lieu of an answer, you shifted, guiding him to your center and sinking down onto him instead. You watched with satisfaction as he threw his head back and hissed at the feeling of you slipping down around him.

“Fffffffffffuck,” he said to the ceiling, a hand tightening in your sweater. You had to agree, gritting your teeth with the delicious slide of him inside of you, hot and thick and full and perfect. You leaned in, putting your mouth over the scar tissue on his neck, smirking when he exhaled shakily again.

“I think,” Touya huffed. “I should have put you over my lap three fucking years ago.”

You thought back to your first glimpse of him, flicking ash at you as he chainsmoked outside the maze entrance, and thought you would have probably gouged his eyes out if he had tried. Honestly he’d barely scraped together enough good will with his little ankle treatment as it was.

But maybe this is what that girl had been talking about, when she said Touya didn’t talk to anyone besides you. Had he really been more into you than he’d let on, these three years? Is that why he’d been at your throat this entire time?

The thought was lost when Touya’s hips lifted into yours, grinding himself into you just right, and your head fell back with a shivery moan. Touya’s mouth found the skin of your throat and sucked as he bucked up into you, picking up into a faster pace. You rocked back and forth over his lap, guided by Touya’s grip on your hips, relishing in the feel of him inside of you.

His fingers slid back down, brushing over your clit, and you bit down a yelp as he dragged his thumb over it firmly.

“That’s it,” he said, biting down softly on your neck. “Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You pressed a hand over your mouth instead as he slid in and out of you, those clever fingers working you deftly. He pinched softly, then swirled the pad of his thumb firmly over your clit again, groaning and pounding up into you. “I wanna hear you, sweetheart. Always want to hear your mean little mouth.”

“Touya—shut up—” you panted as he moved you how he wanted, played you like an instrument. Between his fingers and the hard press of him inside you, you felt like you couldn’t escape the pleasure, the feeling mounting within you. No matter how you moved your hips, his fingers were there to meet you, rubbing maddening circles, teasing you mercilessly, and he filled you so good that it felt like he was pressing against that spot from the inside too.

You writhed with the feel of him, as he steadily covered your neck and shoulders with marks of his attention. You couldn’t help but moan, much much louder than you would have liked, and Touya leaned back to look at you again, looking pleased.

“That’s it, yeah,” he said, another grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Louder for me, sweetheart. Want you to come for me.”

You huffed, unable to do anything but squirm in his lap, chasing the feeling closer, ever closer to the edge. You weren’t going to let his infuriating attitude ruin this for you, not when you were so close—

Without input from your brain, your hand reached out to grab a fistful of Touya’s hair again and his hips stuttered, slamming up into you with more force than he had previously. He looked a little shocked, and then a little dazed, and the grip he had on the side of your hip tightened almost to the point of bruising as he forced you down onto him harder, gasping.

“Fuck, yeah, sweetheart—fuck yes,” he rasped.

His fingers rubbed you harder, and his hips slapped up into you frantically. The uptick in intensity had your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head, and you bit your palm to keep the sounds in.

Touya ground into you with a renewed fervor, and it was only another matter of seconds before something inside of you was being wrenched loose. You lost the grip on your control, every nerve ending in your body lighting up and coming alive, singing with pleasure. You seized up, crying, “Oh my god, Touya!” and then you were cumming hard, harder than you ever had, Touya’s talented fingers still working you, his cock still fucking you mercilessly.

Touya swore, spitting out your name like a curse, and then again in almost reverent tones, before he too was following you right off the edge. He slammed you down on him once, twice, and then he was cumming too—shivering against you as he held you tight against him.

The silence of the room around you was ringing, once you managed to return to yourself. Touya was a long, hot, hard wall of muscle between your thighs, his hair mussed and a patch of makeup you’d missed smearing into the hair at his temple. His cheeks were flush with effort over the seam of his scars, and he looked, irritatingly, even more beautiful than he usually did.

Like he could sense what you were thinking, the corner of his mouth rose as those cerulean eyes searched over you, blinking like a pleased cat.

“Fuck, sweetheart. I knew I liked you mean,” he said, his raspy tone rougher than normal.

“And I don’t like you at all,” you sniffed, though you knew the protest was pointless when he was quite literally softening inside of you. You let go of his hair, remembering yourself.

“Aww angel don’t be like that,” he drawled, his grin widening. He leaned in, pressing a slow kiss over your mouth. “I can make it up to you—all three years, if you’ll let me.”

You knew he felt your involuntary shiver, pressed up against you like he was. And that was definitely answer enough for him, as his smile went more handsome and boyish than you’d ever seen it. You hated that you liked it.

“I’ll clean up and clock out,” Touya told you, gingerly helping you off of him and back into your leggings, his eyes fixating a little too closely on your legs as you did so. “You tell your friends you’re gonna go home and rest that ankle. And I’ll pick you up out front, angel.”

You flushed, embarrassed that you’d completely forgotten that you were at work, and you’d intended to go out bar hopping after. But you figured you could be forgiven just this one time.

“Fine,” you said, though your insides were feeling a little fluttery at the thought of leaving with Touya. “But I expect penitence or there’s going to be a reckoning.” You supposed you were owed, for all these years of suffering.

Touya looked down at you from under his lashes, dark and beautiful and still as infuriating as ever. “I’ll give you my best, sweetheart. Over and over until you can’t even walk,” he promised, “Gotta keep you off that ankle, after all.”

You flushed again, yanking your sweater down over your leggings, and fled out the door. Touya’s laughter floated after you, sounding pleased.

You sped up your pace, your ears burning.

And if you were actually rushing not to get away from him, but to return to him sooner? Well, then, nobody needed to know that but you.

touya doesn't stir when you sit up.

it takes several, heavy blinks to realize that you're no longer dreaming, and by the time you do, your eyes are already stinging with ready-to-go tears. in the silence of your bedroom, your pathetic sniff sounds too loud, throat already thick with worry as you rub at your face; you let out a small, sad moan and it sounds like you're congested to all hell.

it wasn't real, you tell yourself, over and over again to stave off the baseless fear rushing through your blood — but the only thing they really makes it better is seeing touya beside you; on his stomach, one arm hanging off the bed, cheek smushed into your favorite pillow that he's claimed for himself. despite the a/c being on higher than you can afford, he's still without a shirt, patchwork back on full display. it's comforting, that he's still here despite it all.

you're afraid and, selfishly, want him to wake up, so you move to press your face into his back, nosing at a curved line of his stitching. you don't feel him come to, but you press a kiss to the top of his shoulder and then he slurs,

"'s'wrong?"

you let out another moan. "i had a bad dream."

touya grunts, like he was expecting more than that. you can't tell if he's relieved or annoyed. "'s'jus' a dream."

"i know," you tell him quietly, though your heart still pounds and you can feel the sweat cooling in your hairline. you press another kiss to his shoulder, and then another, until your peppering scars and freckles along his back. "i love you."

all you get is silence, which isn't surprising. a little more hurtful than usual, in such a vulnerable state, but he's stopped breathing and has gone stiff enough for you to feel the coil of his muscles; whether he says so or not, your words affect him. exactly how, you've yet to find out.

you turn away to let him sleep, nerves satisfied now that he's spoken to you, now that you've felt him breathing under your cheek and lips. but it's not long before he's stretching, bones popping, and he's adjusting in the bed so that he can pull you back into him. touya's face fits into your neck, breath warm against your ear.

another grunt is pulled from him when you wiggle around to face him, wiggling relentlessly in bed until you're as close as can be.

his eyes are closed and he smacks his mouth a little, half asleep. "'s'fine," he tells you, voice deep and raspy. when you wrap your arm around his waist, one of his own trails over your thigh and your hips, smooths past your chest until his fingers are resting at your jaw. "alright?"

you kiss him, soft and chaste and wantless; it's a simple affection, only meant to offer a sweetness he's not always open to receiving. but you've caught him, now, with his defenses down, malleable and warm in your arms.

touya hums, and when you lean up to kiss him again, his lips part, just enough for you to feel the hint of his tongue against your bottom lip. the two of you stay wound together like that, for a while, mouthing lazily at each other, lips growing swollen and bodies growing warm. the heated tips of his fingers ghost along the side of your neck, becoming tangled in the hair at your nape eventually; you slide a hand up his back and draw shapes along the broken trail of his spine.

he falls asleep after ducking his head down to hide against your throat, huffing lightly against your skin. he stays tangled, comfortable and simmering, a promise to still be there when the sun rises.

you much prefer this kind of dream.

You look so pretty

I thought you might like this :) @dabislittlemouse

Minors DNI.

syn: Dabi adds the finishing touches to your makeup

Tw: soft smut. facial. no plot whatsoever, short and sweet.

The sounds of choking and slobbering echoed through the room making your head spin. You breathed through your nose as your nails indented onto the back of Dabi's thighs.

You tried to take all of him in, you really did, but he was just too big. His cock pushed in and out of your mouth slowly, reaching the back of your throat with ease. His hand pushed your head forward, making you moan and take the rest of him whether you liked it or not.

He let out a sigh, "Good girl, you're getting better." His voice rang through your ears, and you looked up at him, silently begging for whatever release he opted to give you.

You sucked on his cock slowly, running your tongue along his tip in languid movements. Getting a bit faster when you felt him twitch, he pulled out slowly and fisted his cock quickly.

His head was thrown back in pleasure and before you knew it his hot cum was splattered all over your face. He wiped it off with his thumb and stuck it in your mouth, staring as you sucked on it without a thought.

"You're so pretty, now get on that damn bed, we don't want you getting all tired yet, now do we?" He said with a smirk.

You were in for a long night, but it was alright, you would take anything you were given and more.

Aleight let me stretch my hands before I get back to making chapters for OMGR on Quotev... (It's tiring I need long breaks okay)

Pairing: Touya Todoroki (Dabi) x F!Reader

Sorry if it's ass (it is) I frankly had a brain fart and it ended up on Tumblr. At half past 12 AM.

Also, I use my quirk idea for this, it's not monoma's or anything, but it's barely mentioned and happens to be similar in that concept.

Warnings: (My best canon-ish) Dabi, violence, gore-y, cursing, pregnancy, BABIES, y'all married, suggestive, unsuccessful escape? idk i'm bad at this.

It seemed like just yesterday when you met him. You had never expected that you'd end up... This way with a dead man walking. Except you knew better than that.

All that led up to this moment was your own doing. Because OBVIOUSLY when you're nice to the villain for too long they're bound to feel something for you in their of sick and twisted way.

You single-handedly (and whilst you're proud this is the level of control you can have over someone) became his emotional support system and you can hardly believe just how emotionally needy this guy got. Of course, he's traumatized, you really could've figured. You're better than this. You prided yourself in your ability to read people, where was it when you needed it? But it was too late anyway. Well, that's what you told yourself, but currently, you're on a train with two little (11 months old and 23 months old) bundles of joy. Because to be frank, this might've been the best thing you got out of that husk of a man. And worst of all, you actually loved... Or still love him. Where was your red flag alarm? It's should've been blaring. What were you thinking, letting this man of ALL others knock you up? Maybe the fact you had no game and he was genuinely attractive, even if by society's standard his appearance might've been off-putting and to put it plainly; ugly. But you always thought you judged based on personality. Where was that when you took that dude to your house and patched up despite his aggressive insistence that 'he was fine'?

Now you blankly stared at your left ring finger. Yeah. It got so bad you ACTUALLY married him. It was hard. The one that approved the papers died a few days later, to make sure the secret didn't get out, and you felt responsible for that death. If you never got to that point with Touya, he wouldn't have killed that man. The ring was an actual diamond, embedded in silvery titanium. Every time Touya came over you could proudly say he wore it everywhere, and those two materials were the only ones strong enough to withstand his flames. Of course, they were stolen. With his elaborate planning, he made a request through phone for the jeweler to create them and later on he robbed him. Another thing you felt responsible for.

And the other glaringly obvious fact. Your buldged stomach. Really, it took you getting knocked up three times for you to finally call it quits. You could never blame the kids, they're your miracles, from someone you love.

You easily realized that it wouldn't be this easy, but you took the chance anyway. Ever since the war, and when you... Borrowed a certain child's quirk, you've restored him to a moderately healthy state. As far as you remember him. That quirk was draining, and you're lucky you managed to use it that expertly in such a drastic measure. How that man wasn't dead? Honestly, you think he's just fueled by raw hatred.

He was ready to leave you with two kids of his own just to enact a revenge on a man who's not worth his time in the end.

He's still not satisfied. He'd do it again just to see Endeavor crumble like a jenga (lol). He's still thirsting for revenge, and you're just... On the side, for him to come to whenever he needs a reminder he's still human and has human needs that you're supposed to cater to.

Your phone has been on silent for the past hour that you've been on this train.

Your hand twitches as you reach inside your bag and pull it out with a gulp.

Your eyes are met with a barrage of messages, some calm at first (as calm as he can be) and slowly spiraling the longer you leave him unanswered. You count at least 17 missed calls. The last message you read on the pop up window reads as follows:

I will find you.

Of course that's the best he could come up with.

You chalked it up as clinginess but after you found out about his identity, it all made sense. He's transfered his need for (his father's) attention onto you. And like the dumbass you are you fed into the idea since he was cold and distant at best in the first year or two. You really thought it was progress.

How do you unfuck-up a fucked up man? You illogical bufoon. You absolute candlestick.

You sight out sharply. At least Shin'ya and Ryuu are two calms boys. They've been nothing short of angels whilst you have a mental breakdown. Can you even call it that? You're not even crying.

Was it all a mistake? Should you have just sat still in your apartment that you haven't even emptied properly? At least you would've avoided his wrath. In no way would it be abusive, no no, he was better than his father after all. Or so he claimed.

You close your eyes. Tommorrow is another day.

Three days.

It took three days, nights included. On the morning of the fourth day you woke up with a blaring alarm on the staircase of your apartment complex. Screaming and cries. Smoke getting through the cracks in the door, and the horrible stench of people burning alive.

The cries of your children.

You move and instinct and take whatever you can, quickly collecting your fussing boys and about to somehow leave through the damn window. Fourth floor window? So what?

Except your burning door cracks open. In comes a familiar figure.

"You know how to hide well. I'm not surprised."

You still. The blue flames roar in the frame of your door but never enter or spread past it.

You face it, it was game over in that moment. You face him.

The same face you remember. Cold, uninterested, narrowed gaze looming down at you, hands in the pockets of his black, altered duster jacket. Typical white T-shirt, usual pants, the same black platforms you just loved to see back in the day. You thought it gave him flair. Still do.

"What? Nothing to say? I should've expected, considering you didn't bother to text me either."

He leaned down, attentively staring down at you soothing his two boys by bouncing them up and down unconciously who quickly calmed, being together once again.

"Had you not had my two... Sorry, three brats, I might've even let it slide. Unfortunately for you, that's just not the case."

His hand snaked slowly around you. First at your hip, then up... And up... And up until he had a firm hold on your shoulder.

"Be a good girl and come with me without trouble, won't you? Look at what you've made me do already. Surely you don't want anyone else to suffer just because you felt rebellious."

He exhales softly, and you pick up on it, because that's what got you here in the first place. Your stupid attentivness to him and listening like the good person you are.

Your head tilts to the left as he leans lower and places a chaste kiss on your neck.

Was that it? Was your plan to just get that loving side of him to chase you so you wouldn't feel used? And lose all these people in the process?

Because you couldn't deny, he's never treated you wrong, but it never felt like love. Perhaps he really meant all his claims to be unable to feel anything anymore. And you had to be delusional and challenge that notion.

'I can fix him' my ass.

"Believe it or not, I missed you."

His kisses continued to trail up your neck until right under your jaw, and you cherished the drag of his partially textured lips.

"Fuck. I missed you."

He sighed against your neck once more.

There's just no escaping him is there? Not after you're the closest thing he has to the love that he craved.

Worst of all, you're pretty sure he's got it, because you still love him. Still. Do.

In just under a day, everything you moved to that burnt complex was back in your old one. Like you were on a quick trip, untouched.

Or so you thought.

Your bedroom and the nursery were in shambles. Your clothes were everywhere and some were in an... Interesting state. You looked at Touya.

"What? I said it before and I won't again."

He gave you the cold shoulder after that. Right. He missed you.

You settled on the bed, having laid Shin'ya and Ryuu for a nap (that pregnant you could also use). Sifting through the clothes, you deemed half of them in dire need of a washing machine.

He walked up to you, boots clicking against the floor. You were face to face with his waist, so you looked up.

"Really? No thank you or anything? I would say a punishment would be in order, but i'm no pig. I'll let you off with a warning this time. I won't be so nice next time, Y/n. Mark my words."

He settled both his hands on either side of you, so you lean back and prop yourself on your hands.

"You're lucky I fucking love you."

He sealed the claim with a kiss and slowly pushed you flat against your comfortable bed.

It it love? Is it obsession? Somehow you... Can't bring yourself to complain either way.

That night you were lucky you were already pregnant.

Ehe lmao this was so ass i'm gonna go jump off a bridge and kms I swear, so bad I can't even bring myself to read it.

Havunen Minttu on mun lemppari Ääniloiri

Miku is wearing etelä-pohjanmaa Finnish national dress and the art is inspired old packaging of Finnish Oat brand called Elovena.

In original packaging Elovena girl is actually wearing mishmash of different elements of multiple different Finnish national dress. I wanted Miku to wear an actual national dress and the Etelä-Pohjanmaa was the closest one.