squeakybunni

[squeakybunni]

happy birthday king

[squeakybunni]

i have this joke headcanon where if you’re in a steamy makeout session with gojo and you get handsy, he grabs your wrist, looks you deep in the eyes, and says “nono, don’t touch me there, that is my nono square”

[squeakybunni]

Hello! Squeaky I really hope you're doing well and staying safe, always wear your mask 🖤

MANGA SPOILERS pls don't read and delete the request if you're not a manga reader.

Spoilers from season 6 of my hero academia.

Can you pls write a nsfw about Dabi and a S/O who is the UA traitor.

Y/n has been away for a long time (in the dorms) and now after what happened in the War arc they meet again and Y/n betrays the heroes and goes with Dabi and after they go to the villain's hideout they have sex and Dabi tells her that he's really proud of what she did

Also look at this smexy mf 💀🖤✨

am not a manga reader, but i wanted to respond to the pictures anyway bc godDAMN

also i always wear my mask every time i go out, even though it's not enforced by my university or my job. thank you for asking!! /pos

[squeakybunni]

HI! I hope you’re havin a good night!

I was wondering if you could do headcannons of you going to your best friends (Dabi + Hawks) house after getting into a massive fight w your SO and it got physical and you’re badly injured (fluff, protective, anger vibe) thank you so much!! :)

hie anon, sorry to come back from a hiatus and respond like this, but abuse like that is a trigger for me (and i'm sure the same can be said for other people) and i really don't feel comfortable writing anything like that. if you'd like to resubmit and take the domestic violence part out, i'd be happy to write it out for you!

[squeakybunni]

I know irs been a fat minute since i been here but.

Let me eat Dabi and Hawks ass pls? XcX

-Fandom: My Hero Academia

-Genre and Warnings: NSFW, ass eating, oral mention, there's like one brief spank -Notes: HOO LORD I HAVE NOT WRITTEN NSFW IN A WHILE (and i've never written anything like this at all) SO PLEASE BE NICE TO ME /hj

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NSFW under the cut, minors DNI!!

» At first when you suggest this, Dabi doesn't believe you're actually serious.

» "You want me to do what?" he asks with a snort and his arms crossed.

» You're going to have to be persistent about it for him to actually take you seriously.

» Once you've got him laid down on your shared bed, you'll need to make him feel more comfortable. Otherwise, he'd stop you before you even get started and insist he use his tongue on you instead.

» Check on him, make sure he's comfortable, and let him adjust his position if he needs to.

» He'd probably be too nervous to look you in the eyes as you move your head closer to his legs (since he's not used to submitting to you like that).

» If you kiss his legs to tease him, he'd start to grumble at you to "quit taking so long."

» His protests wouldn't last long once he feels your tongue on him and you swear you hear a quiet groan from him at the foreign feeling.

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» Keigo gives me the vibe to be more open to it. I mean, he's got a smile on his face in almost any situation, so why wouldn't he?

» He'd ask you to repeat yourself when you suggest it just to make sure he heard you correctly and isn't imagining things.

» "Say that again for me, birdie? Didn't hear ya."

» When you tell him again, he laughs a little, asking if you want him to get ready for you right then. Of course, you tell him yes.

» He's on his hands and knees on your bed, asking you teasingly if you like the view.

» If you assert your dominance and shut him up by giving him a light smack to his ass, he'd turn his face back around with his cheeks flushed, almost overwhelmed at the idea of you taking control of him.

» He's not shy about the noises he makes either, his back arching and his head tossed back as you have your way with him.

» If you leave love bites on the inside of his thighs, he'd definitely look at them in the mirror later and blush as he remembers what happened.

[squeakybunni]

HEY ALL!! I HAVE NOT DROPPED OFF THE GRID.

so first, lemme just say i'm sorry for going on hiatus without saying anything. i genuinely didn't know how long it was gonna last and i just... gradually lost interest in writing and posting on here. at first i had gotten exposed to genshin and only wanted to play that for like a week and then got in a depressive episode that lasted literal months, but i'm out of that headspace now and am doing a lot better!! i haven't been completely absent; i've been lurking from time to time and i never turned my tumblr notifications off, but i definitely wasn't as active as before.

i'm not hyperfixating on mha as much anymore, though dabi and keigo are both very prevalent in my mind still (and a lot of the content i posted was about them anyway). i'm much more focused on jjk now and probably will be posting more about it, if i get in the habit of writing fics again. the shibuya arc fucking killed me

my requests are still open and if you wanna send anything to my inbox, feel free! i still have a few messages to respond to in there from i'm guessing months ago, so i haven't forgotten if you sent anything, promise! i wanna do some kind of event when i reach 300 followers, so stay tuned!!

[squeakybunni]

Send me a NSFW headcanon and I’ll write a 5 sentence ficlet about it 👀👅

[squeakybunni]

I still have no motivation to write (my jjk oc has literally taken over my brain so badly) but I started reading the shibuya arc last night and I don’t think I’ll ever be emotionally recovered (((((,,:

IF ANYONE HAS READ IT AND WANTS TO CRY W ME IN DMS FEEL FREE, I AM MOURNING.

[squeakybunni]

I’m not in the tokyo revengers fandom but this is vv important. Abuse is abuse regardless of gender. If you believe women can’t abuse men, please block me or don’t interact with me.

this isn't funny, @ghostsgf and it isn't a topic one should be writing headcanons over in a comedic way.

while some couples do enjoy playfighting (and if they consent to it there's nothing wrong with that), never hit your partner when you're actually angry. not even when you're the least bit annoyed.

just because you may be physically weak does not mean you're excused and it's okay to lay a hand on your partner.

for centuries men have been silent when they were abused by their gfs/wives because they were told to believe that, since most men are stronger than most women, then if they complain about being hit they were less of a man, pushovers, etc.

even today there are people who don't even believe a woman hitting a man could mean abuse.

so yeah, hcs about hitting your partner when you're mad disguised as something cute? if you're gonna romanticize abuse at least tag it properly.

[squeakybunni]

League of villains -> dabi | mr compress

[squeakybunni]

Didju know i love you😏

I LOVE U MOAR BESTIE !!! 🥰🥰

[squeakybunni]

Low quality meme

Tag your comfort characters lol

[squeakybunni]

hellooo can i get a fic for dabi with either 1 or 12 (whichever you like) and 37?

foolishness as a love language - dabi x reader (2k)

you probably shouldn’t love him.

warnings: sfw, angst/comfort hybrid? bleeding, pain, brief allusions to past abuse/trauma, mentions of murder. very very light manga spoilers if you squint. gender neutral reader.

[a/n: you requested comfort and i just wrote this, i’m so so sorry.]

“It doesn’t hurt.”

Dabi’s voice is clipped and frustrated in the dark of your shitty studio apartment; his eyes watch you, burning bright, as you rifle in your woefully understocked cupboards to try and find some bandages or something to stop the steady flow of blood from his nose.

“You’re bleeding,” you say. “It’s broken.”

“And I’m tellin’ you that it doesn’t hurt.”

You turn to face him, hands on your hips. He looks like a mess.

You know some people would say that Dabi always looks like a mess; that the purple-red crisp burnt skin and the staples and the tattered clothes do not help matters – but Dabi has always snorted, ignoring that entirely.

“I’m a villain, doll,” he tells you, when you try and buy him a shirt that isn’t ripped to pieces or singed on the edges. He’s abrasive with it, cold for all his heat – but you’ve learnt that Dabi is just like that. “You’re gonna make me look like some fuckshit hero.”

“I just think you’d look nice in some new clothes,” you’d told him, and he’d wrapped his arms about your middle and you’d felt heat spark at his fingertips where they touched your hips.

“Y’don’t like my clothes?” He’d breathe-rasped into your ear. “That ain’t nice manners. Why bother? Anyone’d recognise me in a heartbeat anyway.”

You’d given up in the end. Partly because he was right – he was hardly a shrinking violet, looking like that – and partly because it had nagged at your conscience that perhaps Dabi felt like you were trying to changehim. And though there are things about Dabi that certainly do fray at your nerves – the amount of times he staggers into your apartment with ash that used to be people stuck to his coat, with blood on him, or warning you that there’re heroes around and he needs to lie low – there are things about him that you wouldn’t change for the world.

You shouldn’t love a villain, you guess. You most certainly shouldn’t love Dabi, who is all fiery anger and desperate longing and something sad in those sapphire-burn eyes that you can never quite manage to cut through to – but you do. And when he brings you an old shirt next time he’s at your place, scratching the back of his head and saying; “I thought y’might like to sleep in it. That’s what . . . what people do, right?” - you had ignored that it smelled like smoke and nicotine, and had held it against you. There were only a few cigarette and fingertip-shaped burns in the hem of it; it’s one of the most complete pieces of clothing you’ve ever seen Dabi with.

“Yeah,” you’d said, avoiding throwing your arms around him and kissing his scarred cheeks and making a big deal out of it, because you know he hates that kind of fuss. “Smells like you.”

He raises his eyebrows, grinning, the staple-piercings pulling.

“Y’ought to be glad it doesn’t smell like the hideout, doll,” he tells you. “Not sure more than two of those assholes knows how to work a shower.”

Back to the broken nose. Dabi’s already done his best to set it, but he looks morose where he’s hunched over at your tiny dining table. You brandish an ice pack at him, and he physically recoils at the sight of it.

“You’re supposed to do it for a broken nose,” you tell him, but his face is still all-over hatred. “Dabi, c’mon--”

“It doesn’t even fuckin’ hurt,” he grumbles, under his breath. “I’ve had worse injuries than this, doll – fuckin’ look at me.�� He gestures at himself. “Don’t go treatin’ me like a kid--”

“I’m not,” you sound a little petulant, you know, as you slide onto your other chair next to him. “I’m just worried about you--”

He barks out a harsh laugh.

“Ain’t nothin’ to be worried about,” he says, shortly. “Just another one of those injuries to add to this gorgeous face I’ve got goin’ on.” He motions at said face, lip twisting; and your heart gives a little squirm of pity that you know he would hate. He reminds you, again; “It doesn’t hurt.”

You know that’s bullshit.

You’d asked him, once, if the charred patches of his skin still burned – your fingertips brushing across them, your eyebrows furrowing at the crepe-paper thin texture, at once so delicate you feel like it will flake off in your hands and so tough you think knives couldn’t pierce it. You’d asked him if it hurt – and Dabi had stared at you as if you were making fun of him.

“No,” he’d said, eventually. “Not any more. Jus’ . . .” He frowned, trying to get the words out. You think you might be the first person Dabi has really thoughtabout talking to in years. The first person who he hasn’t just snapped and hissed and tried to break into pieces. “Jus’ phantom pains, y’know? Like when you get your leg chopped off and y’still imagine you can feel it.”

Phantom. That’s a good word for him; slipping into your apartment at night, holding you, kissing you, mumbling into your neck and digging fingers into your skin until he leaves you alone in the morning with the taste of ash on your lips and a burnt out cigarette butt in your bedside table water cup.

He’s a phantom when a police officer knocks on your door and says one of your neighbours reported a suspicious man matching the description of a wanted criminal around this neighbourhood, and you widen your eyes and tip your head to one side and pray they don’t have a lie detector quirk as you say that no, you’ve seen no such man.

“What about this?” You’d asked, brushing your hand over his chest; the part of him that was plain skin, warmed by the rushing of blood beneath. Dabi had grit his teeth, a soft huff as your nails had caught the stapled edge--

“If y’had something pulling on your skin all the time,” he’d said, eventually, “it’d hurt you too.”

He didn’t outright tell you that it hurt; that every day, he felt himself coming apart at the seams and had to concentrate on the shock of metal through dead flesh and living flesh – that’s not Dabi’s style. He doesn’t even like most people staring at him for that long. But you’d known what he was saying, and it’s because of those words that you know the broken nose must hurt.

You lean over and pinch his nose above the nostrils before he can react – blue flame rises in a panic from his fingertips, hot air scorching your arm – but as soon as he realises what you’re doing, they’re pulled back in. His mouth pulls into a grimace.

“You don’t have to pretend to care,” he snaps at you, eventually, whilst you’re rustling around in your medical kit for painkillers. You don’t know how much of his shattered immune system they might help, but beggars can’t be choosers. “I’m fine on my own--”

“Dabi,” your voice is a bitten out mess. He dwells in himself, sometimes; you might not have known him for forever, but you know him well enough to see the way there are more thoughts flashing behind those blue-fire orbs than you’ll ever really be privy to. “I want to help you. Let me help.”

You sense the flex of his shoulders under his jacket. The set in his eyes that says he doesn’t need help now, he’s never needed help, he’s been perfectly fine on his own all of this time and he isn’t going to start depending on someone else now--

(You don’t think you will ever really manage to dig down, in between the cracks in Dabi’s skin, the lines where skin meets scar and see who he once was – but if you love him already, does that really matter? Do you need to know what happened to make him Dabi, to love him the way you do?)

But he breathes out.

“Alright,” he says, voice rough and dark. Those turquoise eyes close for a moment. “Too tired to argue with fuckin’ know-it-all bitches.”

This actually means, you’ve learnt; I’ll let you touch me. I’ll let you care about me. But don’t think for a moment I like it even though I sigh and lean into your touch when you run a finger through my mess of hair and press an ice pack against my broken nose.

If Dabi really wanted you to stop – if he really didn’t care – he’d incinerate you where you stand. He’s done it before; he’ll do it again. You’ve seen it, you’ve used a dustpan and brush on dust that used to be human bodies. But . . . he remains in your chair.

He lets you pat the blood seeping from his nose with his eyes closed and his chest barely rising and falling. There’s a tension in his knuckles that you don’t fail to miss.

It’s all very well you being beneath him; you being vulnerable, and at his mercy, and letting him touch you. It’s different for him to be at yours.

He doesn’t talk about it. But you know something has happened; something lurks in the shadows of his memories that makes him flinch and need to be in control of the way he digs fingers into your skin. 

“There,” you say, pulling the tissue away. It’s stained dark with blood, but Dabi’s nosebleed has stopped. You ease the ice-pack off his nose, too. It’s barely crooked; he’s done a good job putting it back in place.

(Your heart aches at the thought of him tending to his own injuries, shrugging off his hurt because he’s been hurt worse.)

His eyes slowly open to look at you. You’re caught in that moment; one hand clinging to the ice pack, one hand hovering close to his cheeks. There’s a desperation in Dabi’s gaze as he looks at you that you’ve never seen before.

“You can come to me whenever you get hurt,” you say, a lump in your throat that just won’t dissolve. “I just want to help.”

The laugh he gives you is soft, mocking – but his face tells a different story.

“That so, doll?” He asks you. “Y’gonna patch me up when I bring heroes to your door and get you thrown in jail for harbouring a villain? Y’sure you’re not just gonna curse my name? You’re not gonna regret it when I turn on you, too?” Two of his fingers reach up, hooking around your wrist. The pads of his fingertips are blazing hot – but even as you feel them almost sear your skin, you don’t draw away from him.

You think Dabi needs someone who won’t.

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I sure am.”

A tug of the staples at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re real stupid, y’know that?” He says. “You ought to just leave me in the trash somewhere. Let me do what I want to do and burn myself out.”

(You know only snatches of what Dabi wants; the reformation of hero society, the ideals of that one dangerous radicalist, the way his jaw had set when he’d come over once and the only shitty cable channel you’d been able to get your television to focus on had been playing some retrospective about Endeavor. But what have heroes ever done for you, anyway? Not as much as the villain at your table, the one with his hands on you, the one staring at you like he at once wants to devour you whole and keep you safe forever.)

“You know I’m not going to do that,” you tell him, hesitantly. You lean forward. You press your forehead against his (he’s always so warm; heat bleeding from every pore of his skin). “You know.” You swallow. “You know I love you.”

Dabi sighs.

It’s a noise like the wind; like the rattling door of an abandoned haunted country mansion, like a tornado that’s about to bear down on an unprepared town. Unpredictable and yet fizzing with tension.

“You’re real stupid,” he repeats – but he leans forward. He presses his mouth to yours, one of the metal rings digging into your lower lip as he kisses you as if he’s afraid he’ll never get to do it again. He tastes like fear and ash and safety and nicotine and danger.

“Yeah,” you say, against his mouth. “Guess I am.”

But he still holds you like he never wants to let you go.

[squeakybunni]

League of Villains + Hawks in suits

[squeakybunni]

Toga with a s/o who was sexual abuse by her stepfather (student in class 1a)

Yeah uh... I’m sorry, but sa is a really triggering topic for people (myself included) so for the safety of my followers and myself, I don’t want to write any content involving a subject that might be triggering to other people.

[squeakybunni]

How would Sukuna even introduce using his belly mouth into the bedroom? Would the s/o have to indulge first? I imagine them napping together one day then the s/o suddenly sees it & is curious about his big belly mouth. Sukuna answers all their questions about how he does/can use it, then they just start playing around with the belly mouth's lips and it's bulky tongue to see if it really functions like a normal mouth. Even slowly touches its sharp teeth. (1/2)

Anonymous asked: I just see Sukuna like teasing their curiosity about it. Who wouldn't be curious about his god-built body? Kind of licking their wandering fingers and giving their cheek an unexpected, long slurp. He would think their skin and flesh tastes fantastic. And we all know his s/o's flustered face is lovingly amusing to Sukuna so he just keeps teasing them til he gets the idea of pleasuring them orally with it. How long would that belly mouth even eat them out for? Hours? A whole day? (2/2)

anon i am THINKING. oh my god. he's just so relaxed about the careful way you're touching it; maybe playfully lets the tongue gently lick along your fingers when you go to touch the sharp teeth, a small murmur of 'careful, pet', as you accidentally nick yourself on one and the mouth closes around your finger and gently suckles at the blood . . . pleased sighs from his face-mouth, four arms gently petting you and pushing your hair out of your face as you lean to brush your own mouth over it for a kiss--

he loves being able to talk to you whilst he's eating you out; being able to see you and hold you against it whilst it laps and suckles at you. getting to enjoy watching you be given oral in a way most men do not get to - but most men are not ryomen sukuna - and pushing you beyond your limits, over and over again--

[squeakybunni]

Hi soft ass bitch here. Saw a tiktok trend and i needed hawks and Dabi and Sukuna doin it.

Asking your boyfriend to kiss you how they would when you get married TYPE SHET PLS.

I GOTCHU I GOTCHU.

-Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Jujutsu Kaisen

-Genre and Warnings: Mostly fluff, Sukuna is horn knee 24/7 tho so lmaoo -Notes: This my first time answering an ask like this, so uh... sorry if it's a bit unorganized hehe haha

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» Once you run up to him and tell him about the trend, he'd laugh breathily while looking down at you, still processing what you asked.

» "Wait, run that by me again, doll? You want me to do what?"

» You repeat yourself and you can swear you see a hint of redness on his cheeks at your request.

» I guarantee you, this man probably hasn't thought about his wedding at all, most likely thinking he'd never find anyone who wanted to marry him.

» He'd stand there and just give him a second to think.

» Almost without warning, he'd put his hands at your waist, pulling you to him.

» Your lips brush against his, soft at first, but the kiss deepens when he puts his hand on your chin, pulling your face closer to his.

» He'd break away from the kiss, his hand still on your chin, telling you, "If you want me to recite vows too, you're going to have to give me more time for that" with a chuckle.

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» This man would be so sweet about it oml

» I just know he's given getting married some kind of thought from time to time, so he wouldn't need as much time to think.

» If anything, he'd need a second to collect his thoughts for confidence, getting shy when you bring it up.

» "Wait, you-" A light laugh to mask the fact you've flustered him. "Alright, baby bird, ah- Okay." He nods a little, giving you a shy smile.

» His kiss is very gentle, cupping both sides of your face and bringing you to him.

» He would get a bit more forceful, but not by a lot. Maybe moving his hands down to your waist to bring you closer.

» Once he breaks the kiss, he'd get flustered again, putting his forehead on your shoulder.

» "Now I should probably try to change it up for our actual wedding, huh?"

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» See, you'd probably have to explain to him what public weddings are because he'd have absolutely no clue.

» "So... We have to kiss in front of a bunch of people?"

» He'd probably end up saying something about wishing he could do more than kiss with an audience, which you have to reassure him that is NOT WHAT HAPPENS AT A WEDDING, OMFG.

» "Alright, alright, fine, so we kiss in front of people and nothing else? Lame, but okay."

» He puts a hand at your hips, another at your face, grabbing your face and kissing you deep and rough.

» Literally, you almost get the air knocked out of you by how fast and powerful he grabbed you.

» ngl he'd shove his tongue in your mouth im not even sorry

» He breaks the kiss, still holding your face with his hand.

» "...Was that passable or do I need to do it again?"

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