Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13825086.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      僕のヒーローアカデミア_|_Boku_no_Hero_Academia_|_My_Hero_Academia
  Relationship:
      Todoroki_Enji_|_Endeavor/Todoroki_Shouto
  Character:
      Todoroki_Shouto, Todoroki_Enji_|_Endeavor
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Father/Son_Incest, Somnophilia, Implied/Referenced_Child_Abuse,
      thigh_fucking, Alcohol_Abuse/Alcoholism, Rape/Non-con_Elements
  Series:
      Part 1 of A_Terrible_Family_Tradition
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-02-28 Words: 1500
****** First Burn ******
by ohnodoroki
Summary
     Todoroki Enji is looking to burn everything in his life to the
     ground. Shoto hates him already so he might as well indulge.
Notes
     (This is from Enji's POV and the request was for Shoto not to enjoy
     it, so I've been told it's an aggressive read.)
 
 
Todoroki Enji has had a terrible day. A hostage situation, a mass jail break,
and to top it all off he had to fire one of the most productive heros in his
office for gross misconduct. He's ready to burn it all to the ground and start
over.
Zero appreciation for all of his hard work, the Number Two hero is fourteenth
in popularity, tabloids constantly shit on his demeanor, and his house is
empty, all doors open, dark.
 
Well. All but one.
Shoto, his prize, his favorite, his- most frustrating. The boy is going through
a irritating juvenile phase of not using his fire quirk just to piss of his
father. It's working, Enji's pretty pissed, but only because this childish
gesture going to effect how well he can manipulate his flames in the future.
Now is not the time for games and slacking off. UA is not the place for
laziness.
Enji pours himself a drink, doesn't bother with ice, finishing up paperwork in
his home office. He wishes his goddamn wife was still around so he could have
something to fuck his frustrations out on afterwards. Or his son, the second
one, whatever his name is. Hell, he would even put up with Fuyumi's blubbering
after the day he just had.
But they're all gone now, all but one. Normally Enji is thankful for the peace
and quiet, but nights like these… nights like these have him nostalgic for a
full house, full of opportunities.
 
Shoto…
Enji digs through his desk for a smaller bottle, dark, strong. He pours himself
another drink, finishing off the stack of papers on his desk, handwriting
getting sloppier. He now works with zeal, can hardly contain his fire. He's
planning on indulging tonight after all.
 
Because Shoto sleeps like the dead.
And if Shoto wakes up, well.
He would burn that bridge when he crosses it.
 
---
Shoto is sprawled out, legs angled and splayed, belly down, pale against his
dark sheets. He wouldn't be cold, not like his wife, not like Fuyumi. Enji's
youngest son, the one who will truly carry on his legacy. He would be half hot.
(How would he feel on the inside?)
 
Any consequences Enji had been fearing before suddenly seem trivial when he
puts hands on Shoto for the first time. That's his son, his creation to
inspect, to use at will. Adjusting his son's body, pulling a leg down to meet
the other, Enji does inspect. Shoto is still soft in places, the meat of his
thighs and ass not nearly as firm as they could be. Lazy boy should be at the
gym more often.
Large hands run down his thighs, pushing his legs together, pulling the muscle
apart, kneading softly with hot fingers. True to form, Shoto doesn't even stir,
his breathing even, slow. One leg hot, the other cool. Both soft, touchable.
Perfect Shoto.
Enji's hands are rough but his touch is gentle, fingertips easing along Shoto's
soft skin, slipping beneath the hems of the worn grey shorts the boy is
wearing.
Quiet, soft, warm, perfect. His.
Easing the shorts down is more difficult, but Shoto really is a heavy sleeper.
His ass is smooth, it begs to be touched, squeezed, slapped. Enji can touch, he
knows, without waking Shoto, but if he decides to go further it'll be on him.
Rough thumbs spread Shoto's cheeks, he pulls at the winking pink skin of his
hole, pushes against his smooth taint leading down to soft balls. Shoto groans
gently in his slumber and Enji's cock slowly fills out the rest of the way in
his pants. He takes a moment to relieve the pressure, unfastening and letting
his heavy erection fall out into his hand.
Enji fists his cock, staring at his youngest son's ass, wanting. Wanting to go
further. Shoto seems to hate Enji no matter what he does, no matter what.
Shoto. Spoiled thing. Quiet, warm, soft, and perfect. Enji lets him get away
with too much. It's about time he learns just how creative punishment could
get. A sick family tradition of sorts.
A hot drop of pre hits the back of his son's leg and steams, slides down to
meet the other. Enji pushes the thick wet head of his cock in after it, easing
home right between Shoto's soft, pliant thighs. He pushes them together. One
hot, one cool. Mostly warm. Perfect. His perfect Shoto.
Slick and burning between Shoto's legs, Enji's cock parts them nicely, but the
shorts are still in the way. Enji wants to feel as much skin as he can, so he
eases Shoto's shorts all the way down past his knees, exposing most of his
thighs. Shoto still doesn't wake. When Enji pulls out, he fists his cock again,
squeezing hard so more precome oozes down, spreads hot down Shoto's thighs. His
next thrust feels even smoother, thick cock gliding wetly between his sleeping
son's legs. Enji thrusts higher, gets closer to his round little ass.
 
Shoto doesn't begin to stir until he feels his father's slick cock gliding
smooth over his taint, his balls. Stimulated, he moans softly in his sleep. At
Enji's next thrust Shoto's eyes flutter open, blink, confused. His legs try to
part but Enji holds him firm together.
"Wh- what are you-" Shoto's voice breaks with sleep and surprise. With the heat
Enji puts off there's no way it could be anybody else behind him.
"Quiet, Shoto." He growls, a warning, slowly thrusting back into the space
between his thighs, shaft rubbing wet and hot against Shoto's balls. There's no
mistaking this act for another, not with the now firm way Enji pins him, uses
him like a toy.
"Wha-" Shoto's breathing picks up.
Enji hopes the boy can feel how thick he is, know what mercy his father is
granting him for not destroying his ass with his cock tonight. Perhaps he does
notice and that's why he starts shaking. His voice is so soft and cracked Enji
can barely make out the words.
"-y are you doing this?"
Enji rolls his eyes. So damn dramatic. Where could the boy have gotten that
from.
"Quiet." He repeats. "I made you just like the others, just because you're
special, Shoto, doesn't mean you're not still mine-" He snarls the last word,
punctuates it with a particularly harsh thrust. He no longer has to be gentle.
Shoto chokes wetly. Is the boy crying already? How old is he, 15? For the love
of-
"For god's sake, Shoto, man up. You're lucky you've had so many siblings to
fill this position until now-" Another harsh thrust. "You're lucky I don't
split you in two with my cock tonight-" Another, Enji's cock weeps, slicks the
way. He burns with lust. Shoto is soft, trembling and warm.
"You're lucky-" Enji is on a roll, caging Shoto in with his arms, smothering.
"I'm not treating you like my father treated me." He drapes himself over
Shoto's smaller frame, a horrible, scorching security blanket. "I'm being nice,
Shoto, hold your knees together tighter."
Enji picks up his hips and continues his thrusting, using his son's thighs as a
sleeve. Shoto buries his face in his pillow, thankfully not crying anymore. He
even listens, keeping his knees pressed tightly together as the girth of his
father's cock forces his thighs apart, grinds hot against his soft cock and
balls.
"Good boy." Enji mutters, thumbs pressing bruises into Shoto's skin. Shoto
shudders. "It'll be over soon enough but this is your duty now, to serve my
needs."
Shoto presses a hand over his own mouth. Good. Quiet, soft, warm, perfect.
"I made you- shaped you-" Enji pants deliriously, getting close. He smells like
embers, whiskey. Two things that would end up making Shoto nauseous for the
rest of his life. "You're mine, Shoto, my most powerful son, my perfect
creation-"
His thrusts get sloppy as they get harder, more erratic. Shoto's thighs are
slick with hot pre, Enji plans on making a mess of them, painting his son's ass
with his burning cum, watching it drip down over his hole and past his taint,
pool in the valley of his thighs. When he does start to come, he makes sure to
spread Shoto's cheeks again, pulling out from between his thighs. Thick and
steaming, ropes of Enji's cum coat Shoto's twitching hole, reaching well over
his lower back, dripping back down around his balls, pooling in the space
between his legs. Enji groans lowly, pushing his cock back into that now soaked
space, finishing his load between Shoto's thighs.
Shoto curls up small when Enji pulls away, draws his knees in with a single
sniffle before falling silent. He remains silent as Enji uses his shorts to mop
up his mess, tossing them in the direction of the laundry basket afterwards.
Shoto doesn't cry anymore.
"Good boy." Enji buttons his shirt, fingers stumbling on one or two. He has
never had any patience for tears.
 
 
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