I.....I Just Wanna Lick Him All Over Plz And Thx????? Yeah.....

i will never be normal about The Character. hope this helps 💖

JSKSJSKSJSK

happy new year or something

I see this directly after going down the familiar rabbit hole of Damon Salvatore edits & clips on tiktok and I wanna scream bc they are blending together in my mind help meeeee i want him so bad

INSUFFERABLE

todoroki touya x gn!reader

includes: dabi is a shameless flirt lol. brief dire mention bc he’s a dumbass. you fall for his antics

notes: he’s so. dumb. i hate him lol

Sometimes you envy the students whose professors’ lock their doors as soon as class starts. 

The ones that provide that immediate punishment for the students who don’t care enough to show up on time, not giving them so much as a minute past the beginning of lecture to slip in. If they’re late they miss, it’s nothing more than a product of their carelessness and they deserve it. 

Sadly, your biology professor is not one of those people. 

Which is fine for your peers who rush in only five, ten, hell—even fifteen minutes late. Their hair wet from just getting out of the shower or clothes wrinkled from having just rolled out of their cramped dorm bed because they forgot to set their alarm. You can understand that; empathize with the plague that is eight a.m. classes. 

Who you absolutely cannot empathize with is the guy who sits next to you. The one who walks in not ten, not twenty, no—thirty minutes late at the very least into lecture, and doesn’t give two shits about not being disruptive. Lets the door slam shut behind him and his scuffed combat boots stomp heavily down the aisle and shuffle with an unneeded amount of noise before plopping down in the chair next to you. 

He’s simply insufferable, truly. With his box dye black hair and chipped fingernail polish and the intricate canvas of tattoos that sweeps from his jaw down his arms and disappears somewhere below the ridge of his perfectly carved collar bones that look absolutely—whatever. He’s annoying. That’s the point here. And today is, of course, no different. 

“Hey, dollface,” Dabi smirks as he sits down, then immediately scrapes his chair over to you. You think today is a new record, a whole forty-one minutes late. You wonder why he even bothered to show up at all. 

You don’t address him, not at first. You merely send over a half assed side glance as a form of acknowledgement. That is, until something glimmering catches your eye. (Something that isn’t the piercings or rings you’ve become accustomed to over the past month). 

“Why do you have that?” You half whisper-half hiss at him, staring down at the object twirling around his fingers. 

“What? ‘S just a lighter.” He flicks it open to show you, as if you couldn’t tell before, then snaps it right back shut. 

You roll your eyes, turn your attention back to your professor. Just fifteen more minutes and you’re out of here and far away from him. “Obviously.” You sigh, bounce your leg subtly. “Don’t light that in here.” 

And you don’t think you should really have to say that, and you don’t know why there’s an unease bubbling in your stomach due to his presence—but you do and it’s there. And it only increases as you catch the smirk slicing deeper across his face out of the corner of your eye. 

“Or what?” Dabi questions, scrapes his chair even closer to you, opens the lighter again. “Whatcha gonna do about it, doll?” 

“Seriously don—“ 

“Oops,” he grins, wide and cheeky as his thumb flicks the lighter on. He’s holding it up, like he doesn’t give a shit whether the professor catches him with it or not. Like he has no worry for the trouble it could cause. 

“What’re you—stop that.” You can’t believe him, seriously, and the audacity he has for disregarding basic rules. “If you get caught with that inside you could get fined.” 

“Pfft, please.” And this time it’s his turn to roll his eyes at you, scoffing under his breath. “You have to be a student here to get fined.” 

You blink at him. Once, twice. “Huh?” 

“What?” He hums, waves his finger over the flame disinterestedly, not even looking to make sure he doesn’t hold it over it too long and burn himself. “I don’t have to worry about stupid ass fines.” 

“Yeah, but—what do you mean you aren’t a student here?” 

Your lecture is long forgotten, your professor’s voice fading out into static as you stare at the man beside you. That uneasiness in your stomach is twisting, stirring around in a way that’s a little uncomfortable. Because sure, you knew the guy was a little odd. But not being a student? Showing up to your classes all the time? Hanging around campus? What if he’s some sort of creep, or stalker, or— 

“Woah there, sweetheart. It’s not what you’re thinking, I'm not some freak or anything. My dad’s the uni president. I get to sit in on whatever classes I want for free. No need to alert the authorities.” 

Oh. 

Your cheeks heat up, a flush rising so fast as well as the want to hide under the table. Silly you, of course he wouldn’t be some creep. I mean, he might be a tad creepy, but that’s not necessarily a crime. 

(He’d be a cute creep, you think. Then mentally tell yourself to shut up). 

“I wasn’t going to do that,” you huff, still looking at him. You aren’t sure why, but his eyes look particularly blue today; more than normal. Maybe it’s because you’re finally allowing yourself to look, a full proper look at your—sort of—peer. “For the record.” 

“Sure,” Dabi chuckles, leans a little closer to you. His fingers mindlessly play with the necklace dangling around your throat. You don’t know why you let him. “So that wasn’t a total how do I discreetly call 911? expression then?” 

“Definitely not,” you dismiss, tapping your pen to your notebook. “It was a man this guy’s so lame he goes to class in his free time expression.” 

Dabi winces, an exaggerated thing that you hate to admit is a little charming. “Ouch, lame? You wound me, dollface. Right in the heart.” 

“You’ll live.” And it’s minute, a little twitch of your lips before you can catch yourself, but it’s there. And Dabi catches it, pointing a finger annoyingly close to your face. 

“Was that a smile, hm? Did I just make my little doll smile?” He teases, prods his finger into your cheek. If you had any idea where it’d been you might lean forward to bite it off. 

“One,” you tut, pinching his digit between two of your own and pulling it away from your face. “I’m not your doll. And two, not a chance. You’re imagining things.” 

“Oh no no, definitely not,” Dabi presses, devilish tilt to his mouth. “That was a smile. Finally falling for me, that it?” 

“Uhm, excuse me—“ 

“Not now,” the man in front of you cuts off the person’s voice from behind, giving them a cold look, “We’re busy, thanks. Anyways, as I was—“ 

“Sorry, it’s just—“ 

“I said we’re busy,” Dabi grits, brows cutting deep as he snaps his head back over his shoulder. “Or did you not hear me?” 

“I did, but—“ 

“What?!” 

“Their jacket’s on fire.” 

Whatever snark Dabi might’ve wanted to push out at your fellow classmate dissolves immediately as the both of you snap your eyes down. And sure enough, right where Dabi has his lighter open—the one you told him not to light—the edge of your jacket has just caught on fire. 

“Oh shit,” Dabi curses, snapping the lighter shut and tugging it back from your jacket as he watches you frantically pat it out with a sleeve covered hand. 

You’re successful—thank god you don’t burst entirely into flames—but the corner of your jacket (your favorite one, mind you) is now very obviously scorched. Your eyes snap up to meet cerulean blue and what little bit of uneasiness left in your stomach turns into a boiling fit of rage. 

Completely disregarding the lecture (that you admittedly weren’t paying attention to anyways) you shove everything into your bag and get up from your seat to leave. You make your way out of the lecture hall absolutely fuming and don’t miss a single beat as you turn on your heel to yell at the man behind you as soon as the door shuts. 

“You’re absolutely unbearable!” You grouse, jabbing your finger into Dabi’s chest. “Seriously! I can't believe you.” 

“Oh c’mon. ‘M sorry! I didn’t mean to, it was just an accident—“ 

“I told you not to light it. But no,” you groan, and you seriously want to rip your hair out, or punch him, or something. “You just had to act like a tough guy. Mr. Too Cool To Be A Student Here. You lit me on fire!” 

“I didn’t mean to! I said I was sorry!” 

“I don’t care! I could’ve been burnt up in a crisp!” 

“But you weren’t!” He defends. “It's not a big deal.” 

“It is to me, this was my favorite jacket. You know, just because you’re hot and have some big shot dad doesn’t mean you can just do whatever you want!” 

“Well obviously, because if I could do whatever I wanted then I'd be doing you!” 

The both of you pause for a moment, catch your breaths through slightly labored pants as you stare at each other. It’s like the gears are turning in both your heads simultaneously, cogs clicking into place and smoke clearing in the workshop. 

“Did you just admit you think I'm hot?” 

“Did you just say you want to do me?” 

A part of you wishes your jacket was still on fire, because at least then you could try to justify that as the reason your cheeks are suddenly burning. You turn your face away from him, adjust the bag slung over your shoulder. You’re thankful you’re the only two in the hallway, or else you’d probably die from embarrassment right now. 

“Well, how ‘bout I make it up to you then?” 

You let your gaze drift back up to meet Dabi’s, staring into tattoo and mascara framed eyes suspiciously. You narrow your vision, tip your head to the side as you watch that shitty (read: thigh clenching) smirk make its way back to his lips. 

“And how do you plan on doing that?” You tense up a little as he takes a step closer to you and digs a pen out of your bag. Then he grips your wrist—gently, despite the firm hold—and scribbles across your palm. 

“I’ll be outside your dorm at eight,” he grins, dropping the pen back into your bag when he’s done. “Wear something hot. ‘N I don’t mean the burnt kind.” 

You shove his shoulder at the remark, glancing down at your palm to see what you’re guessing is his phone number. “Asshole.” 

He simply catches your wrist again, tugs you close enough that he has perfect range to dip down and kiss your cheek. And if you weren’t flushing before you certainly are now, eyes going wide against your will as you watch him let go of you and take backward steps away. He throws you a wink, chuckles when he sees you snap out of it and scoff at him. 

“Insufferable!” You call after him. And you don’t try to hide your smile this time. Don’t try to veil your expressions. 

“Irresistible!” He corrects, sticking his tongue out and making a corny call me gesture with his hand when you flip him off. 

And you wonder if you should wear your scorched jacket tonight simply to spite him. 

guy who wins at poker not by being stoic but by bursting into tears every time he looks at his cards, just full hysterical breakdown every round and you gotta peer through the void of theatre kid problems to figure it out

.....I might actually willingly go to church if this is what's happening

Ready to confess?

Me: I'll do a simple manga panel colouring to finally draw faster in digital

Me to myself: FUCK OFF

This is exactly the vibe I've always imagined 🤧

It's what is right and what we deserve 🥺

in another life Touya and Shoto get to enjoy life together with a Rodrick and Greg brother dynamic

shigaraki before getting juiced

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Thighs, Thighs, Thighs

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[NSFW] ‼ 18+ >MDNI<

Summary: Touya is already weak for your thighs.

And then you decide to wear thigh high stockings.

Pairing: Dabi/Chubby! Female Reader

Content Warning: Smut, Face Sitting, Intercrural Sex, Cum Marking, Dabi has Genital Piercings, Plus Sized Reader, Dabi's a simp

Word Count: 2.9k

Disclaimer: Character belongs to Kohei Horikoshi

A/N: For my fellow chubby girlies, ily 🫶🏽

My Masterlist

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Touya has a certain fixation with your thighs.

After long days, he loves to just lay his head in your comfy lap, holding you. When you straddle him, he's free to rub and squeeze them as he pleases, and he will take any and every opportunity to have them wrapped around any part of him.

He loves the jiggle of them when he smacks your ass, and squishing the plushness beneath his palm. Biting and sucking his marks into the soft flesh is one of his favourite things to do.

You in shorts or short skirts are a weakness for him; you in fishnets, lace or thigh highs are fucking lethal.

So when he's on the couch, just minding his own business, lounging in his sweats and tank top, and you come out in a pleated, black miniskirt that barely covers your ass, black, sheer thigh high stockings with lace edges, a matching lace garter belt holding them up by thin straps, and one of his white tshirts, clinging to your body but especially your tits, nipples printing through showing that you had no bra on, who could really blame him for snatching you by your waist and pulling you into his lap?

You balance yourself on his shoulders, getting yourself comfortable, before your hands slide up the side of his neck and back to tangle your fingers in his pale hair as you lean in.

Heated hands slide up and over your legs, the contrasting softness of your skin and the lace of the stockings satisfying. He gropes and fondles at your thighs, your ass and tits through your clothes, before inevitably back to your thighs, all as he kisses you slow and hot.

Trailing mismatched lips down your jaw and up to your ear, he mumbles, voice husky, "Fuck, look at you. Get all dolled-up for me, baby?". Scarred hands grope at you, one hand inching up under the skirt, the other sliding up under the tshirt.

"Hmm, maybe.", you hum, basking in his attention, moaning softly as he leaves kisses, licks and nips along your throat and collarbone, sucking pretty bruises into the skin as he goes, while pinching and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You love the way he gets when you dress like this.

His hand under your skirt pauses as all they meet is more skin. And he realizes that you aren't wearing any underwear at all. You feel his clothed cock twitch against your bare cunt, and you bite your lip to supress a smug smile.

"Shit." He breathes out a short, hot laugh against your neck before pulling back, "Fuck, okay. Sit on my face, baby. Please, I need to taste you."

You especially love that you could make this man, this big, bad villain, be basically at your beck and call, little more than a begging mess for you, with just the sight of your thighs and the promise of your pussy.

And seeing those wide, pretty blue eyes, looking at you with such reverance, how could you say no?

So you smile, sitting up on your knees for him to adjust. He shifts to lay on the couch properly, and his hand rests on your back, urging you to move upwards, until you're directly above him. You hold yourself steady with a hand beside you on the back of the couch, your legs framing his head, cunt hovering right over his mouth, as you hold the end of your skirt up to your stomach, biting your lip.

It's not exactly the first time you've sat on his face, and you love it of course, but it always makes you a bit nervous at first because, what if you break him? The first time he wanted you to, you asked him this and he just said, "What a way to go.", before pulling you in. So though the small nerves are there, it's drowned out by your arousal.

He grasps your thighs from behind as his eyes immediately snap to your pussy, glistening with your arousal. You see the way his pupils dilate, now just a ring of turquoise around a pool of black.

Your lips curl in a sly smile when his gaze locks on yours, eyes hungry, as he turns his head to mouth at your inner thigh after unhooking the straps and peeling down the tops of your stockings, blunt nails scraping along the skin.

You pant softly at his ministrations to the sensitive skin, smile still on your face as he laves and sucks marks into your flesh. A gasping moan is drawn out of you as he bites down on the meat of it, pussy weeping.

He pulls away, leaving the stinging mark to switch to the other thigh, his fingers digging possesively into your side, definitely leaving pretty bruises.

You're so wet you're leaking, your slick trailing down your thighs and Touya licks it right up, the flat of his hot tongue feeling branding as it slides over you, the metal of his piercing adding to that sentiment.

He groans, almost whimpering, at your taste as he shifts beneath you and you let out a breathy giggle.

At the urging tug at your hips, you finally lower yourself.

And Touya is in bliss as you sink your weight onto his face, thighs pressing to his cheeks. You feel the contrast of his healthy, soft skin and rough scars; his staples warm and digging into your skin is always surprisingly pleasant. He wraps his arms loosely over your legs, moving his hands down to rest on your thighs, moaning at your taste and the feeling of being completely surounded by you.

His flattened tongue licks a fat stripe up and through your folds, lips enveloping your throbbing clit, licking and sucking; you gasp as you release the couch to cup your breast through your shirt. Lapping at the sensitive nub, his scalding tongue swirls around it, his piercing enhancing every drag, before dipping into your wanting heat; and you moan lowly as you gently roll your hips, whining at the blunt scrape of his nails down your thighs.

Having his oxygen cut off, smothered in your sweet heat, has him completely hard and already leaking in his pants, but it's easy to ignore with your cunt and thighs suffocating him in the best of ways.

If he dies like this, he'd die a happy man.

Because he loves this. The feeling of you coming undone, thighs shaking and trembling and twitching around him, with his face buried in your hot cunt; clenching your slick walls around his tongue and rutting your clit against his nose.

He moans, slurping and panting against you ardently, the sounds filthy and wet, letting you know exactly how much he loves the taste of you and where he is.

Touya's hold on your thighs tighten as he pulls you down harder; hands heated to the point that they might just brand you.

"Come on, baby," he moans, voice slightly muffled. "Fuck my face, please."

You release your hold on your tits to tangle your fingers in his hair in a tight grip as you rock your hips, grinding over his hot tongue, the metal ball perfectly on your clit, your head thrown back as lewd moans spill from your parted lips. Your thighs squeeze around his face, practically suffocating him, and you see his eyes roll back, a deep groan vibrating through your cunt.

Your breathing and hips speed up as you pant, whining moans spilling out like spun sugar as your eyes roll shut in ecstasy when your orgasm crashes over you; your legs tremble and your breath stutters as you cum, gushing against him, slick running over his cheeks and chin, and down his throat. A gargled moan escapes him as his hips jerk up, rutting against nothing, his cock twitching as it leaks, making a mess in his sweatpants, as you ride his face through your high, dragging your sloppy pussy over his sinful tongue, using him.

Your movements stutter and broken moans fill the air, yet his mouth does not leave your heat; his hands do not move from their grip, holding you down to the sweet tortures of his tongue, licking firmly over your swollen, sensitive clit.

"Hnn, too much, Touya, baby—ahn—it's too much—"

He finally gives you reprieve and you move down to sit on his thighs, your legs still shaky, breathing still laboured, eyes hazy.

And when you finally focus enough to look at him, Touya is gorgeous.

Flushed and already looking fucked out, he peers up at you with pretty, azure eyes, glassy and hazy, and still so deliciously amorous.

You stare at him, at the glistening wetness all over his face and neck, and he holds your gaze, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb, popping it into his mouth.

Your face goes all soft and needy, pretty eyes wide and wanting; lips parted before your tongue peeks out to wet them as you swallow thickly, and you see something flash in his eyes. Something hot and dangerous and mouth-watering.

He abruptly sits up, leaving you no choice but to fall back into the seat of the couch with a small squeak, and he spreads your legs, one hooked on the back of the sofa, as he grinds his hardened bulge against your tender pussy, making you gasp sharply.

He leans down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. You moan softly into his mouth as you taste yourself on him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him in; fingers in his hair, dragging your nails gently over his scalp, making him shiver and press down into the kiss more firmly as he rolls his hips against you, a scarred hand sliding up and under your shirt, fondling your breasts as his other hand grips your leg, fingers digging into the flesh of your thigh.

Pulling away, he sits up, kneeling, keeping your legs spread for him, running his hands across your thighs reverantly; fingers dancing along the hickeys and bitemarks littering the smooth expanse, admiring, biting his lip, before pushing your shirt up your chest, over your breasts.

He pinches and rolls a pebbled nipple between his fingers, making you squirm and whine, as he brushes his other thumb up through your slick folds, rubbing over your clit.

Panting, you watch him, a shiver running through you at the look in his eyes. It's hot and sly and so fucking sexy.

You prop yourself up on your elbows as he moves his hand from your chest and slips his cock out, the ladder of piercings along his shaft glistening with his arousal. He strokes himself idly as his eyes drink you in, before tapping the sticky head on your sensitive clit, the wet little sounds of it lewd and filthy.

Your head lolls to the side as you whimper softly at the small jolts of pleasure going through you at that, as your hands cup and fondle your own tits. Glancing up at you, he rubs the head of his cock into your clit, making a mess of it with his precum; the sight of you playing with yourself making him leak even more.

Pushing foward, he glides the shaft of his cock through your soaked folds, but he doesn't push in, making you whine as your cunt throbs.

He slowly slides back and forth, back and forth, coating his dick in your juices. Spreading you open, he dips just the head into your warm cunt, teasing your hole, before pulling back out.

The cruelty of feeling full yet so empty makes you whine and pout at him as you try to grind down onto him, because he's just toying with you dammit.

He swats at your inner thigh, smirking at the little gasping whimper you let out at the sting, before lolling open his mouth, letting his spit drip down onto your cunt and thighs, coating the marked skin there.

You make a small sound of confusion, mixed with a gasping moan, which is ignored as he grips your legs, pulling them closed and up, folding you nearly in half; your thighs pressed together, both feet over his left shoulder.

Trembling in desire, your eyes widen in realization when you feel his wet cock slide through the flesh of your thighs, hot and heavy.

Pressing a kiss just above your ankle, he sighs out, "Keep your thighs nice and tight for me, baby."

You obey, gripping your thighs around his erection. You feel him twitch against your skin, veins throbbing.

Touya grips your legs tightly as he slowly rocks forward, gliding into the tight pocket between your thighs.

"Oh fuck.", you moan as you look down, seeing the glistening head of his cock poke through them before disappearing again as he thrusts, slowly fucking your thighs.

His precum mixes with your slick in a sticky mess as each thrust has the underside of his cock gliding over your cunt, his ladder of piercings there rubbing deliciously over your clit and you shake in sensitivity and pleasure.

Fuck, he's not going to last long like this. You're too fucking pretty like this, your thighs too welcoming, your little sounds too sweet.

Ankles crossed, you wiggle your hips up and down the seat as your thighs flex, clenching rhythmically around him. "Good girl.", he groans, speeding up.

"Fuck.", you whimper at the sweet friction to your clit as your head buzzes at his desperation, feeling drunk on it. Your cunt continuously leaks, aiding the smooth slide of his thrusts.

You feel sensitive to every touch, every drag of his cock, as your second orgasm builds quickly.

Heated hands greedily squeeze and grope at your thighs and over the soft lace before he reaches up to play with your chest, squeezing and fondling, as he leans on the back of your legs, pressing your knees closer to you, folding you even more as he thrusts against you.

You squirm and writhe beneath him, your moans growing higher and louder as your pussy is so very thoroughly teased, and Touya can see that you're on that precipice yet again.

You cum with a cry as trembles wrack through your body; your thighs twitching around his length.

He thrusts a few more times, dragging out your peak before prying your legs apart and shifting a hand to his cock as he strokes himself to his completion with a deep groan.

Thick ropes of hot cum paint your thighs and pussy, a few drops staining your skirt. He presses his tip against your tender clit, smearing and rubbing his spend into you. You give a sweet, broken moan at that; at how filthy and perfect it feels to be marked up like that, claimed like that, as you watch the cum drip down your thighs obscenely.

Your breath hitches as he dips his hand between your legs, thumb swiping up his own release. He brings it up, smearing his cum on your parted lips, eyes locked on yours.

"Suck." His voice is thick and dark, gaze hot as he presses against your lips until you obey, taking it in; licking and sucking on his thumb, lapping at the cum soaked digit, making sure to get every last drop, as you moan softly at his taste.

He hums, pleased, as he pushes into your mouth, moving his thumb back and forth, fucking into it, playing with your mouth; rubbing it into the inside of your cheeks and along your gums as he watches you with lidded eyes and a wolfish grin.

And you wish it was more than just a thumb that's weighing on your tongue as you look up at Touya from under your lashes.

He pulls it out with a wet pop before pulling away fully.

You hold his gaze as you lick the remaining cum off your lips.

Wiping the corner of your mouth with your thumb, you smile smugly as you watch him.

"On your knees for me, Dolly. Gotta clean me up, yeah?" Touya's expression is hungry as he looks at you, focused; like a predator stalking its prey and a shiver runs through you.

Because you do so love being his prey.

You happily get on your knees before him, thighs spread, looking up at him with such a self satisfied smile, he thinks you would purr if you could.

You lick him clean, teasing and sweet, until he's hard again, throbbing in your mouth. And then he bends you over the arm of the couch, fucking you stupid as you bounce back on his cock while he gropes and slaps at your ass and thighs, skin tender and stinging deliciously; before he fills you up till you're dripping with him.

And as you lay on the couch, spent and fucked out, covered in his marks and cum, watching his bare back walk out to the bathroom to get things to clean you up, you think to yourself.

What else can you do to make him crazy for you?

......so this is exactly me but you didn't need to call me out like this

size difference kink but in the “i grew up being made fun of for being chubby so now the idea of a giant of a man being able to toss me around and tower over me without making my weight a problem makes me really horny” way, you get what im saying?