009. CARNATIONS

In the Todoroki household, Touya's childhood bedroom had been marked as forbidden territory while Shoto was growing up. The door to his older brother's room remained closed all the time.

Almost all the time.

No one dared to touch anything inside. It was like his room had been frozen in time. His old computer remained unplugged and was never turned back on. His colored pencils remained unsharpened and his little school backpack remained untouched since the last time Touya had tossed it into the corner

Shoto had been put in charge of preparing the room for you and Touya's arrival. Fuyumi had asked him to since she was busy cleaning the guest room for you with Natsuo.

Touya would be back home in this room. That was all Shoto could think about as he stood outside the bedroom, a duster and small box of cleaning wipes in his hands

Shoto remembers the times he'd hear the quiet creaks of footsteps against the floorboard late at night, right before hearing Touya's door be slowly pushed open.

Shoto had trouble sleeping when he was younger. He was always able to hear the sound of someone opening Touya's bedroom door late at night. He'd lay in bed, his heart practically beating out of his chest at the thought of his Touya-nii returning home.

He'd get out bed, putting on his slippers and walking towards the door as quietly as he possibly could

There would be this flittering hope inside of the young boy's chest. A small voice in the back of his mind calling out Touya's name. He could already picture his brother's face as he slept, soft cheeks puffed up as he breathed in and out. The reassuring rise and fall of his chest was a sight Shoto desperately wanted to see

Shoto remembers the quiet sound of shuffling inside the room. Movement. Someone was inside.

He didn't know what to do when met with the sight of Natsuo laying in Touya's bed as he cried quietly, his sobs muffled by his brother's pillow. His palms would clutch the blankets and pillows with desperation, a sheen of sweat coating the younger boy's skin as his eyes were screwed shut in pain. Natsuo would be repeating the words "come back nii-san." over and over again.

Touya's last surgery before the holidays had taken place yesterday.

His doctors had been working hard as ever, pushing themselves to the brink of exhaustion as they worked to restore Touya's strength and skin. While his complexion would never be 'normal' again, it had gotten better. It was similar to how he looked when he had first waken up from his coma. While some of the pale, unburnt skin peaked through—there was still the slight discolorizution of burns all over his body.

He's peeling back the bandages on his face, unraveling the soft cloth as it falls into the sink in front of him. He no longer saw Dabi when he looked into the mirror, he saw Touya. He flexes his hands, curling them into the fist and admiring the way the once burnt flesh was restored to something much more healthier. Albeit still scarred—but better.

He stares at his reflection a while longer, tugging the white locks of hair out of his face as he traced over his features, trying to see the man underneath all the scars.

His footsteps are slow and drowsy as he walks back into his room. He squints in the dark as he stares at the red letters of the clock on his bedside table, reading 2:06 AM.

Touya cannot sleep. His small travel bag is packed, sitting on the small couch in his room and waiting to be swung over his shoulder. Knowing he'd be visiting his home in just a little over a week felt like some sort of a fever dream.

His regret and guilt for all of what he had done was embedded into his heart like permanent stitches. It would take so long for those stitches to come undone and for his heart to completely heal. He hadn't apologized to his siblings or mother yet, he hadn't even seen them after the war. Just knowing he hurt them all was a heavy burden on his heart.

Fuyumi and Natsuo were his siblings. They were the ones he had grown up with, they were his family. Shoto on the other hand, felt like some sort of out worldly being to Touya. He blamed his father for how he viewed Shoto. The youngest Todoroki had always felt like some sort of an outsider to Touya, he never really did accept him when he was younger.

Touya saw how your eyes would soften whenever you spoke of his youngest brother. There would be this faraway look in your eyes as you told Touya about Shoto's letters. You'd explain to him how Shoto had a hard time communicating his feelings verbally, so he often wrote down what his heart had to say when his mouth couldn't.

Touya doesn't know when he grabbed the pen or the paper. All he knows is that he did, and suddenly the letters on the page in front of him were forming words.

His handwriting had improved, thanks to you. His spelling too. He could make out the words he was writing when he read back what he had written. His hand moved slowly, languid strokes appearing on the page from his pencil. Touya imagines Shoto isn't very good at reading between the lines from what you've told him about his brother—so he makes his words as short and straight to the point as he can.

Dear Shoto,

I am sorry. I hope we can start over again. I am not good at talking about how I feel either. I like the idea of letters.

Touya.

There were only a few words that Touya had written down, but he read them over and over again until his eyes threatened to close on him. He dragged himself over to the hospital bed, his exhaustion finally hitting him as he fell into a deep slumber the moment his head hit the pillow.

Clutching Touya's winter clothes to your chest, you slowly click his door open and enter. He should've been awake by now—but the sound of his heavy breathing makes you pause in the doorway

You can't help but smile at the sight of him. He's wearing a loose, short sleeve shirt as he laid on his stomach, cheek smushed against his pillow as his hair tickled his brow bone. His back rose and fell slowly.

You set down his things onto the small pull out couch before quietly moving to open the blinds to allow some light to shine into the room.

He stirs the moment the sun's rays fall on him, rolling onto his side with a small groan before going slack again.

Touya's not usually this tired. You imagine he must have had trouble sleeping last night—and the thought makes you frown a little bit.

His sleeping pattern had definitely gotten better, but there were still some nights he'd wake up in a cold sweat to an empty room. Those were moments he needed you most—but, unfortunately for him, you couldn't be with Touya all the time.

It was only a matter of days until the two of you would be sleeping under the same roof in his old home. Your hands are gentle as you splay them over the expanse of Touya's back, and you nudge him awake softly while calling out his name

He wakes up slowly, lashes fluttering as he raises his cheek from his pillow. His eyes widen a bit when he catches sight of you standing over him, and he quickly pushes himself off of his elbows to sit up

"Y/n," He rasps quietly, and you quickly move to unscrew the cap of the bottle of water you had brought, offering it to him. Touya grabs it slowly, taking large, grateful gulps of the chilled drink. You quickly avert your gaze to look down at the floor after seeing the way his adam's apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed down the water.

"Good morning, Touya. How did you sleep?" You ask, carefully dragging your chair closer to his bed as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. His hair is a fluffy mess, and his bangs hang in front of his eyes in wisps as he sends you a sleepy smile

"Like shit. I had a weird dream about Shoto though...he was a fish and I was trying to stab him with my fishing hook, but the little jerk kept...slipping away." He mumbles tiredly, immediately wincing at the look of genuine concern on your face

"That is...very interesting, Touya!"

The rest of the morning consisted of the usual day to day activities. You and Touya had a small chat about Natsuo and Fuyumi, and he spoke of the little bits and pieces he remembered about them from his childhood. There was a small but fond smile on his face as he recalls the times Natsuo and him would play outside in the rain together, a little Fuyumi following them and jumping around in her rain boots.

In the afternoon, you both walked through the gardens once again. Sitting in the grass for a while, you taught Touya a few more breathing exercises for him to practice on. You hold his hand in a gentle grip, a single finger pressed over his pulse as Touya imagined himself melting into the ground.

The grass was covered with a soft layer of dewy snow, and every time Touya exhaled—there would be puffs of chilling white air swirling from his mouth. The cold weather didn't stop either of you from wandering outside—only because you had practically suffocated Touya with a bundle of jackets and enough layers to keep him warm enough through an ice age.

Night came just as it always did, but Touya was about to break routine just a little bit.

His fingers brush over the crinkled paper under his pillow. It had been folded into thirds, and the creases in the paper were very prominent. The reason for this was due to the fact that Touya kept on unfolding and folding the letter over and over again—re reading his words and trying to figure out how to give his letter to you so you could make sure it got to Shoto.

Touya wanted Shoto to read his letter before he came back home, just so Shoto knew that if Touya wouldn't meet his gaze or if his responses to him were cut short—he was still trying his best.

"What's that, Touya?" You question curiously, tilting your head and offering the paper in his hands a quick glance. He stares down at it for a moment before speaking

"I..want you to give this to Shoto."

There's a beat of silence that passes between the two of you. It was like he'd dropped a rock into still water, watching the rippling effects before the surface went still once again. There's a hundred questions swirling in your eyes. Touya can see them. He grabs your hand slowly, gently swiping his thumb over the familiar skin of your knuckles before he places the paper in your hands

"Read it."

Your eyes slowly drag from his eyes to the paper that rested in your hands. His eyes were solemn, forever patient as he waited for you to open his letter

"Are you sure, Touya?" You ask softly, making no move to open the letter until he gave you his confirmation

He nods slowly, staying quiet for a moment before speaking

"I want you to, Y/n."

He needs you to try and understand his feelings for Shoto, which were complicated beyond belief. He used to hold nothing for resentment for him, a hatred that seemed too strong to put out. But now it was put out, and in place of his hatred was a feeling Touya was having a lot of trouble understanding.

Shoto was a good kid. Touya didn't want to mess this up.

You nod before your fingers move to open the letter. Your eyes flow over the few words written on the page quietly. Touya's suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed with how hard and long you were staring at his letter. Come on, his hand writing had improved! Were you still having trouble reading it?

He's about to speak when you suddenly fold the letter back up, reaching into your bag and pulling out a small, personal agenda. There's delicate flowers plastered onto the cover of it, and you open it up to today's date before tucking Touya's letter in between the pages. You close it and place it back into your bag as Touya exhales through his nose

"Thank you," He murmurs quietly, his cheeks flushing warm under your gratifying gaze

There's so many more things Touya wants to say to you. He wants to grab your hands and kiss each one of your fingertips, sensually and slowly.

He thinks you want to reach out and touch him too. Your hand is gentle as you thread your fingers through his and squeeze. There's a thousand unspoken words in the gesture.

Whatever was between you and Touya was an undeniable thing. But your gentle smile is almost like you're saying not yet. He wants to ask you when. But for now, he'll just squeeze your hand back instead.

CARNATIONS MASTERLIST.

a/n; hi fellow readers!! :3 i was thinking abt that scene where little touya was trying to talk to little natsuo about endeavor while they were laying down and little natsuo is just falling asleep & nawtt listening. imagine how much he wished he could get those moments with his big bro back after touya burned up 🥺

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one sided beef

feat: girl dad!keigo takami / hawks

warnings / cache notes: language, pictures used do not depict reader’s skin tone, only for aesthetic!

req 📌: ❌

m.list

765 notes View Post

storiestoobsessover

1 month ago

Bakugo is weak for neck kisses

Katsuki’s pacing back and forth, clearly agitated, ranting about how stupid some idiot at work was. His fists are clenched at his sides, stressfully running hand agitatedly through his blonde hair, and his words are practically on fire as he vents.

“I swear, this dumbass has no clue what the hell they're doing! How the hell are they even still a damn hero? You think they’d get it by now, but nope—totally useless, every damn time!” His voice is sharp, frustration radiating from him like heat.

You watch him for a moment, knowing that he won’t stop on his own. So, you step forward, gently cupping his neck with one hand as your lips brush softly against his skin, trailing a slow, teasing kiss along the side of his throat.

He freezes mid-rant, his body tense, but then he scoffs, clearly trying to hide how much it’s affecting him. “Oi! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He turns his head away, trying to regain control, but your kisses are relentless, moving from soft pecks to gentle nibbles along his jawline and neck.

“Hey—HEY! You think you can just—mmh,” he grumbles, his voice weakening as your teeth graze the sensitive skin near his collarbone. His breathing picks up, and his words become a bit more scattered. “What the hell… I’m not—shit, stop—ugh, damn it…”

He shifts, tilting his head to the side, allowing you more access as you continue your gentle assault on his neck. His chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, and for a moment, you almost think he’s going to say something more, but he just closes his eyes and lets out a low sigh.

His usual sharp attitude softens, though he’s still trying to keep his composure. “Tch… What the hell was I saying?” He mutters, trying to focus, but all he can do is lean into your touch, his head tilting further, giving you more room. His hands are still clenched at his sides, but they’re not as tense now, more relaxed as he lets you distract him.

You smile against his soft skin, continuing to kiss and nibble, savoring the way his body reacts to every touch. Slowly, Katsuki’s frustration fades into something softer, as he lets you do what you want, the tension in his shoulders melting away.

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storiestoobsessover

2 months ago

it is never too late to simplé take a nap for 18 hours

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storiestoobsessover

2 months ago

tiktok reader and bakugo move on together. they buy an apartment, they do laundry. she relaxes into being alive, her eyes soften over the years.

but sometimes, she catches a hint of red out of the corner of her eye and she's suddenly back in that fucking hotel room.

119 notes View Post

storiestoobsessover

1 month ago

touchstarved!dabi who's unused to any sort of physical contact that isn't reprimand or pain. he tries so hard to keep it together when you scratch your nails down his scalp, but he can't help pressing up against your hand, silently begging for more.

touchstarved!dabi who starts to crave the feeling of your skin on his with an almost visceral pain. he can't help it; you're just so soft and warm and kind

touchstarved!dabi who nuzzles into your neck and nips at your ear hard as you ride him, whispering filth that makes your stomach drop, "going nice and tight around me, aren't ya, baby? let me feel you gush all over my cock, go on, you can do it"

touchstarved!dabi who goes absolutely feral when he's been away from you for any longer than a week, collaring you by the neck and dragging you into his room just to toss you onto the bed and hitch your thighs under his forearms, "show me how much you fucking missed me princess" (goodbye to your fucking guts)

touchstarved!dabi who refuses to get up afterwards because he likes to bask in the feeling of your skin against his

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storiestoobsessover

3 months ago

this is so precious to me

67 notes View Post

storiestoobsessover

5 months ago

And If I Want It Soft?

includes— hawks x reader. smut. minors dni.

warnings— gn!reader. taking keigo's virginity.

If this is the corruption they warned him about, let it be sweet and let it be you.

It's hardly noticable; but Keigo gets nervous when you touch him like this. Like he's doing something wrong, something forbidden. His feathers twitch like they're prepared to detect his commission handlers stalking around the corner of his dim apartment hallway, forboding and scolding something shrill and calculated in his direction.

Instead, Keigo blanks at the way you touch him. Leans into your touch like a kitten, purring when you scratch his scalp. A blissed-out coo trills in Keigo's throat when your fingertips scritch at the feathery, baby blonde hairs where his skull meets his neck. A sweet sound. Innocent. Lovesick, those closed eyes and subtle smile.

But oh, the way Keigo stiffens when your hand follows the ridges of his spine down his neck like water over the rocks of a riverbank, splaying beneath the cotton of his shirt and flooding his senses there.

Keigo's body prepares for his handlers to scold him, now that he's got a pretty thing touching him all over— in ways the commission would surely balk at, too— but that doesn't happen. Instead, your sweet voice lulls him under the ocean waves again, soothing that overworked mind of his. Quieting it with gooey safety.

Calling him words like pretty, and sweet boy, and mine.

Can you blame Keigo for stirring beneath the waist? Honestly, it's quite inappropriate of him to be thinking these sorts of things about you. Your bare hand is massaging the tender junction between his shoulderblades beneath his shirt. His face is smushed against your chest, arms strewn over your body in bed. It's not like he can help whining a little in his throat, nosing at your body like he's thirsty for something more to wet his appetite.

He's a virgin. At his age in his twenties, too. Seen all that life as a hero and the poor thing has never gotten his cock wet. A shame.

You won't let that stay for long, though. He's sure. He wouldn't give it to anyone but you. And lord, God, angels in heaven— he wants you to take him.

But that isn't appropriate to say. So instead, Keigo lets the tension simmer. Luxuriates in it, lets himself sink into it like a hot bath.

Until next time. He thinks he'll let you touch him wherever you want, next time.

---

Where should he put his hands?

Your tongue is pressing against his, but it doesn't feel strange. Foreign, sure. Welcome, absolutely; but nothing about this is unnatural.

Still not used to this, Keigo closes his eyes and allows himself to moan. Judging by the way your lips quirked against his, he's sure he did something you liked. His heart sings at the thought and he huffs against your mouth.

He did good.

Subtle praise makes a man bold, and he decides to try his hand at making more sounds for you with the intention of infecting you back with that imposing heat you impart unto him— only this time, Keigo allows his tongue to curl around words.

Words like you're so beautiful, and I want you so badly, and mine, too.

Your soft hand palms at his cock over his hero uniform and Keigo nearly chokes on a sob, eyes rolling back like he just touched God.

Would it come across as desperate to reach down and undo his pants, himself? A stern voice sharply barks the word greedy in the back of his mind for liking this. Keigo whimpers and turns his head away as if it will help him escape the thought, but then—

"Greedy boy," you whisper, and Keigo's breath hitches with arousal.

"You like this," you ask. Reverent, not judging.

He does. He likes you.

Keigo must have nodded at some point, because your warm laughter and sympathetic mmhm, good boy make his shoulders fall lax and comfortable.

"Can you," Keigo dares to ask, eyes wide. "You don't have to, it's just—"

He hears his buttons undone.

---

This time, you're both wearing much less clothing and Keigo is the one on top. He wonders if you're feeling as exposed as he is; but he doesn't have to wonder if you also feel this right— Keigo can hear your thoughts through your body, now. A honed skill, an acquired dialect.

You did that thing you usually do to him, stole his breath through his cock and sucked his thoughts down your throat as if his body were some kind of holy ambrosia; but tonight, as you both discussed prior, Keigo wouldn't be finding release in your mouth.

When did the most erotic thing ever done to him become simply foreplay? He used to lose his mind at the way you fit him into your mouth, begging garbled pleas for forgiveness from something or someone unreachable for feeling this good. Now, it simply makes him hungrier.

"Like this," he mutters the question to you for guidance, congratulating himself for not choking the moment his fat tip presses against you, prodding at your entrance.

"Mm," you moan and the sound is like lightning down his cock, causing it to twitch. "A little lower. Then press forward and—"

A gasp. Possibly two. Fuck if Keigo can tell, stars swimming in clockwise circles around his head.

The heat of your hands grounds him, palms squished against his cheeks as he presses his forehead to yours, sinking inside.

"Breathe, darling," you smile.

"God, I'm— I, I'm trying," Keigo laughs, boyish, pretty, and golden. "Fuck, you feel so good."

"Right?"

You clench and shift your hips just for show and Keigo's jaw drops in a silent scream.

"You can do that? Don't do that," he whines, nosing into your neck. You feel his bare skin against you and his breath comes panting. You smile triumphantly.

"Sorry, sorry," you say. "I'm nervous, too. You just looked so cute. Your nose got all scrunched up and—"

As quickly as they bubbled up, the words are snatched in your throat like air lifted from your lungs. Keigo's firm hands pin your hips softly in place, grinding his body boldly against yours. Dragging himself deeply in your guts, knocking the breath out of you with pleasure.

As much as Keigo adores the sound of your voice, pillowy and seraphic, he needs to satiate this feeling in his chest somehow.

"It feels good for me, too." A kiss against his shoulder. "You take care of me so good. You're real gentle with me."

Like a lover, Keigo's mind completes for you.

Finally soft. Finally seen. Keigo blinks back the tears and kisses you again instead.

---

Keigo would be hesitant to admit the amount of research he did prior to undressing you, but in the end, it blanked from his mind entirely once you both started melding together. That being said, he does particularly recall most of the advice detailing how unrealistic and difficult it is to finish at the same time as your partner.

Huh. He supposes not everything you read online has to be true.

Your soft, sleepy breaths rouse Keigo from his daydreams, recounting in meticulous detail your eyes, your movement, your voice in the throes of it. One elbow props his body up, the thin sheets revealing more of his torso when he shifts over you.

Keigo tucks a stray hair of yours and watches your dreamy breaths, the rise and fall of your bare chest that was just against his own.

He should probably feel guilty for calling you his spouse already, but he doesn't. He supposes he never will.