Touya Todoroki

The steam in the master bathroom was thick enough to swallow the world, turning the marble walls into a blurred, weeping grey. You didn't hear the click of the door—Enji had insisted on high-end, silent hinges during the last renovation—nor did you hear the soft padding of footsteps over the bath mat. The roar of the water was a perfect veil, a rhythmic white noise that allowed you to retreat into your own head, scrub away the day, and forget for a moment that you were living in a house built on tension and unspoken desires.

Touya had watched you from the shadows of the hallway for months. In this life, he wasn't a scarred ghost of the underworld; he was the eldest son, the one with the piercing blue eyes and a simmering intensity that everyone mistook for ambition. He was the golden boy with a core of white-hot obsession. When his father remarried your mother after the long, cold years following Rei’s passing, Touya hadn’t felt resentment. He’d felt a predatory click in his chest the second he saw you.

You weren't his blood. That was the mantra he whispered to himself every time he watched you walk past his room, every time he caught the scent of your shampoo in the hall. You were an interloper, a beautiful addition to a broken home, and he wanted to keep you all to himself. The curtain didn't rustle. He was too careful for that. Touya simply stepped into the spray, his clothes discarded in a heap outside the tub. The sudden shift in air pressure was your only warning, but before you could turn, a pair of calloused, warm hands settled firmly on your hips.

You froze, the soap suds sliding down your skin, but the scream died in your throat as a chest—broad, solid, and radiating an unnatural heat—pressed flush against your back. He was significantly taller than you, his chin hooking over your shoulder, his damp hair brushing against your cheek. The water poured over both of you now, but the heat wasn't coming from the showerhead.

It was the unmistakable, rigid weight of him pressing firmly between your thighs from behind, a physical manifestation of the hunger he’d been hiding behind polite smiles and "sibling" small talk. His grip on your hips tightened, his thumbs digging into the soft dip of your waist, anchoring you right where he wanted you. He didn't care about the morality of the roof over your heads or the man sleeping in the bedroom down the hall. In this cocoon of steam, there was only the friction of skin and the heavy, rhythmic thud of his heart against your shoulder blades.

He tilted his head, his lips grazing the sensitive shell of your ear, his breath hitching as he felt you tremble under his touch. He didn't want you to run. He wanted you to realize that you were already caught.

Touya’s voice was a low, jagged vibration against your skin, barely audible over the splashing water, thick with a possessiveness that had finally snapped.

"Don't move" He hissed, his hand sliding up from your hip to cover your mouth, while the other wandered dangerously lower

"You’ve been driving me out of my mind since the day you moved in. Did you really think I’d just sit at the dinner table and play 'big brother' forever while you looked at me like that? You're not my sister... and I’m tired of pretending I don't want to ruin you."

He leaned in closer, his teeth grazing your earlobe as he felt you melt against him.

"Now, are you going to stay quiet and let me show you exactly what I've been dreaming about doing to you, or do I have to make sure you can't walk tomorrow?"