#Soft Dabi

[baby-tini]

Imagine Dabi kidnaps you and he's actually really sweet. Besides the kidnapping, he could be actual boyfriend/husband material. Like he hasn't hurt you physically and it kind of fucks with your head a bit. He provides everything you need to live plus more. And you don't have to worry about surviving anymore. Since you were kidnapped dare you say more relaxed than ever. So, you put up with it and eventually develop Stockholm syndrome fr.

I don't think this was a request BUT I genuinely can't stop thinking about this, I love when he's so soft.

You despised him at first when he took you away, but it got better, Dabi told you it would. He told you that if you behaved that he would take care of you, treat you like a princess. Dabi truly loved you, he just wanted you to understand that and he would do anything to make you understand. It took a little while with punishments here and there but it worked. When he came home, you were there to greet him with open arms. Telling him how much you missed him, kissing him, nuzzling into his chest. Dabi could truly say, that for once in his life he truly felt happy, at peace... like he finally was enough for someone.

It felt.. nice, to be around Dabi, he was comforting in a way. Brushed your hair for you, braided it, let you sit with him on the balcony as he smoked. It was nice to just sit and talk about things with him, smelling the mid-night air as you leaned against his chest. He smelled nice, the smell of cigarettes now becoming a comfort, the sick smell of ash that had you wrinkling your nose now had you clinging to him, shoving your nose into his jacket. Dabi truly became someone of comfort for you, holding you close on cold nights. Kissing your head when the thunder sounded too loud on some nights.

You don't remember falling asleep, but then again, no one does. His side of the bed was warm though, so that had too mean he was home now, throwing the comforter off you go looking for him, and sure enough, he was out on the balcony, smoking. He truly looked ethereal, his eyes relaxed, shining a beautiful cerulean, head thrown back, dyed black hair a little tousled from scarred hands running through it. Dabi truly is a sight to behold.

Opening the sliding door, he looks up at you as you step out, closing it behind you so that bugs don't get it. He wraps an arm around you as you walk towards him, plopping down into his lap as blows the smoke away from you. "How you feeling doll, you sleep good?" There's a nod from you as you bury your face into his chest, inhaling that sweet smell of ash you've come to adore so much. The smell always makes you think of him, an automatic comfort it brings you is a stress-relief.

"How was work," you ask him softly, running your hands through his hair. He inhales through his nose before sighing, "It was fine, tiring, but fine." You can tell, he sounds exhausted, looks exhausted too. You kiss him, running your hands up and down the nape of his neck, he shudders at that, pecking your cheek. His right hand running up and down your back, drawing little patterns every now and again.

"...can I hit it," he glances at you, then looks at the cigarette, the tip burning a bright blue. He hums at you, holding it to your lips as you inhale the smoke. Holding it for a couple seconds, you blow it out away from his face. He pushes some of your hair behind you ear, mouthing at your neck. "You feel better pretty girl, hm?" His voice is always a welcome, low and deep, sounding so apathetically pretty.

"Yeah, thank you," he hums again, kissing at your collar bone as he runs a hand through your hair. He kisses your cheek before giving a couple pats to your ass, "come on, up, I'm tired doll, lets head in."

[star-spirit-mayhem]

Waking up with Dabi in between your legs. Your pajama bottoms long discarded on the bedroom floor and the only thing worth focusing on is a warm pleasure that gently coxes you into consciousness as Dabi slowly tongue fucks your pretty hole. He's watching you closely as your eyes blink open and your hand reaches for his hair, pulling a downright sinful moan outta him.

"Pretty little pet, So eager for me. Just relax and let me take care of you doll, wanna make you fall apart around my mouth before we gotta get up for the day- make sure you're walkin' funny so everyone knows how good I make you feel" he sounds so breathless and needy like he's starving for you as he dives back in-between your legs making you gasp and moan as he starts giving your most sensitive spots all the attention he could muster, determined to have you broken and dumb on his tongue before he let you out of his bed.

[mamayan]

★彡SOFT YANDERE DABI SHORT DRABBLE☆彡

Soft Yandere Dabi x Darling!

Synopsis: You read something that disturbs you greatly, your heart aching and in need of comfort. Your captor is happy to clear up some misunderstandings. (I do not condone any book or author burning, it’s just for the story)

Warnings: Soft NSFW (smut), light yandere themes, cursing, pet names (doll, sweet girl, princess), afab reader, FLUFF, fingering, penetrative sex, mentions of murder, Dabi is not a soft man even if he’s being soft

You didn’t realize you were crying until you tasted your own tears. The pages in your hands slowly blurring as you tried to rationalize with yourself. It’s just a story, fiction, not real. Though, try as you might, your empathetic heart aches with the thought of something so horrid ever happening to you. The main character in your novel, the adventurous and wonderful protagonist, meets a torturous end at the hands of the one they loved most.

Manipulated, used, abused, and left behind like trash.

The first hiccuped sob is a bit loud, as you quickly move to stifle the next. Why this was hitting you so deeply, you truly couldn’t fathom. Maybe it was the thought of him doing it to you. The man in question certainly capable and able of bad deeds like no other, but when it came to you he was always gentle. Even when he claimed he wasn’t, that he was going to be “rough” and “show you who was in charge”, they was empty threats followed by pleasure and loving hands thereafter.

It might be due to your attachment to the series, a different protagonist and antagonist in each book but all set in the same world and slowly intertwining as you near the end. This was the second to last book, but the ending has you struggling to pick up the next. It was just so sad, and the author depicted the emotional and physical pain so well.

You sniffled, putting the book on the night stand and getting up to go get a glass of water from the kitchen. Dabi was gone on mission, and you weren’t sure when he would be back anyhow. It was best to put the TV on and find something to distract yourself.

Is what you thought, but just as you passed the front door, it unlocked and opened to reveal your tall captor dressed in casual street wear. A black torn up hoodie with a white t-shirt underneath, the hood up over his head and a black cotton mask hiding everything but his electric blue eyes. His black jeans with a spiked belt and combat boots were a little muddy, but it wasn’t too unusual since it was the rainy season. He held a plastic shopping bag in his right hand, and the house keys in the left. Both dropped to the ground though, and faster than really should be normal, your face was cradled in his hands as he looked down on you in a panic. Water dripped off his soaked clothing and onto you and the floor below.

“Hey doll, wanna tell me what’s wrong?” It was nearly threatening how he asked it. Especially with his mask covering up a lot of his expression, but you were familiar with the concern in his gaze, despite there being a hint of malice attached too.

“Oh, no it’s nothing important!” The embarrassment of having been caught crying over a story was enough torture, let alone explaining it aloud to a man who could very well laugh at you because of it. The thought of being ridiculed by Dabi left a sour taste in your mouth, and you were eager to change the subject.

“You’re all wet! Let me grab a towelー” When you tried to move away, his grip changed on your face. Instead of the gentle caress a moment ago, he now gripped your jaw and cheeks in one hand, and his atmosphere changed. Despite him being a flame quirk, the chills he could evoke were terrifying. “Try moving away again when I ask you a question, I don’t really feel like punishing you tonight, but if that’s what you want…” He trailed off, and you didn’t need to be told twice.

Maybe it was the tone of voice he used now, or the threat of punishment… even though they were never really punishments in your opinion, but the flood gates opened nonetheless. Your tears were thankfully enough for his irritation to evaporate back into concern, strong arms wrapping around you and pulling you close to lean on him. He smelled like rain and smoke, and a bit spicy. He’d likely been active, but the way he smelled was familiar and comforting. It was no longer a scent which evoked terror in you, instead you melted into his damp embrace.

“Okay, okay, how about this? You go start the shower. Set the temperature just how you like. I’ll be there to join you in a minute, yeah?” His raspy low voice turned soothing, a gentle hand cupping your cheek so he could press his forehead against your own. You felt a shiver run through you, the sick feeling in your gut lessening with his idea. He did always complain about your preferred shower temperature, and the teasing wasn’t lost on you as you sniffed and nodded. Blowing your nose also sounded like a good idea, snot probably on his hoodie already. He gave your head a quick kiss, pushing you in the direction of the bathroom as he moved to shut and lock the door behind him. You followed his order, padding across the floor and onto the tile of the bathroom, the chill traveling up your spine and setting you into motion.

The spray of water hitting your bare skin was uncomfortable at first. You really did just want to curl up in a ball and pretend this all wasn’t happening. You struggled to formulate a better plausible reason for you acting like this, but your mind kept coming up blank.

It was too late, as the bathroom door opened and Dabi entered. The clear glass door hid nothing from his eyes as he smirked and shamelessly watched you for a moment. His face mask was gone, along with his hoodie. He easily stripped off his shirt, his body on display this time for you as he slowly undid his belt. You liked when he did this, put on a show of sorts, even though when he’d first taken you, he hardly ever took his shirt off even when you were intimate. His crude attitude made him come off confident, if not overly, about his looks. You knew better now though, the insecurities his burns and scars carried. You always did your best to turn that around though, to tell and show him how much they amplified his charm and appeal to you. His gaze caught yours as he finally joined you, both of you naked and exposed but the water and tight space seemed to make it less vulnerable.

He wasted little time in grabbed your body wash and soaping you up. His touch teasing and light, riling despite his denial in doing so. Grazing your nipples so innocently, as if he truly is just interested in washing you. Only just barely applying pressure to your clit, and pretending like he hadn’t teased you until you were dripping. “I’m just trying to clean you up doll, and you’re getting off on it?” His tone was mocking, but you could care less as he dipped a finger and then another inside you. The ache in your chest lessened by a new ache in your belly. He’d barely pumped his fingers a few times in you, and you were already close.

“Dabiー”

“Shh… I know. Just come for me, don’t think about anything else. You can do that for me can’t you?” He was behind you, front flush with your back and his hard cock pressed between your ass. Your legs were shaking, arms hooked behind you to hang on as he began teasing your clit too.

It was too much. “Dabi please, I can’t!”

“You don’t really have a choice doll… don’t make me tell you againー fuck, good girl.” You were falling apart in seconds, your pussy drenching his hand and the tension in your belly snapping.

He washed you again, this time methodically. His touch was no longer arousing, more intent on massaging your muscles and loosening the rest of the tension you carried. Though his lips pressed against your own, and he whispered praises in your ear, nothing else took place.

He dried you off, dressed you in one of his shirts, and pushed you towards the bed.

“Now…” he looked serious, climbing onto the bed after you in only a pair of dark boxers. You leaned back, nervous as he took position over you, arms and legs caging you in. “Care to tell me what upset you?” His gaze was daring you to lie, and you were certainly tempted to do so, but you were already drained. He’d hardly been home for half an hour and was crumbling your defenses.

Dabi was nothing if not observant and meticulous when it came to you.

“Something sad happened to the protagonist in my book…” Your tongue dipped out to wet your lips, his eyes tracking every little twitch and movement you made like a predator waiting to strike.

He didn’t speak. His stony expression didn’t give way to the ridicule you expected either. His only indication for you to continue was a slight nod of his head. You chose to settle your stare on his collar bone, easier than meeting his intense gaze. “A-and it, um, it made me sad… I guess? It made me sort of… compare it to u-us. Like, if it happened to me…” Your eyes flicked briefly up to his own before back down again. The confession messy and hardly worth noting, at least in your own opinion.

He grunted, making you look back up as he cocks a brow down at you in his usual mildly condescending attitude. “You think I might do the bad thing that happened in your book to you?” His guess was a bullseye, and it didn’t make you feel good to even paint him in that light. You knew logically he’d never do something so atrocious to you, not if he meant how he felt for you.

But insecurities don’t listen or feed off logic.

He must’ve gotten some non-verbal confirmation from you, because in the next moment he was reaching over the bedside table and grabbing up the offending novel, setting it ablaze right before your eyes. The dust and ashes lightly decorating your torso as you gaped in shock. He grinned, looking pleased as he brushed the remnants of the pages off you. “I don’t read all the books I get you, no point and they don’t really interest me, but I do read their synopsis and spoilers. You think I’d let me friends fuck you?”

You felt the atmosphere getting dangerous as he looked downright feral. A warm hand on your chest pressing you flat on your back into the mattress.

“Think I’d sit back and watch while a bunch of deranged shit bags had their fill of you?” His tone was menacing, hissing out his visible disgust even as he spoke. “This is clearly my fault, isn’t it doll?” You weren’t sure how to answer him, but he laughed when you quickly shook your head. The rhetorical question seeming to lead nowhere good. “No, I think we need to have a revisit to an old lesson. Who you belong to, is me, and me alone, sweet girl.” His hand drags up your chest to your throat where his long fingers encircle it. He doesn’t squeeze hard, but he does place enough pressure for you to feel to dominance he’s displaying. “Have I been to nice with you? Is that why you don’t know the answer to what I’d do if anyone tried to even touch you?” You weren’t able to fully shake your head, so it forced to speak even though it came out strained.

“N-no… I-I’m sorry Dabiー” he cut your apology short by briefly cutting your oxygen.

“Nu-uh doll, we aren’t doing little apologies right now. We’re having open and honest dialogue here.” If he wasn’t currently choking you and pinning you to the bed, maybe you’d believe that. He released his tight grip, going back to gentle pressure as you gasped for air, panting.

“No, we’re going to have a test. If you get at least 80% correct, I’ll pass you. If you don’t however…” he trailed off, looking down at you with mock pity. It made you nervous and excited all at once, and he must’ve noticed the way you squeezed your thighs because he sat up on his knees now. His free hand pressing on your lower abdomen and moving down to your bare cunt under his shirt. “Always so ready for me, aren’t you doll?” You wanted to argue he was always teasing you, that was the true explanation behind your arousal, but it might end whatever was happening so you kept quiet. He trailed a finger up through your folds, your legs spreading wider in invitation for him to do more. He doesn’t though, just softly spreading your arousal over your clit before moving back down to do it again. It felt good, but it wasn’t enough. Not even close to what you needed to send you over the edge. Your little whines and pleas would go ignored, Dabi loving edging just as much as he loved overstimulation. Either produced the reaction he truly adored, your body and mind unable to function without him.

“Now… question number oneーpay attention” he sent a sharp slap to your clit that had you jerking and crying out in his hold, “ーwhat is the fastest way to piss me off?” Your poor clit throbbed, but you swallowed and did your best to answer coherently.

“L-lie to you…?” Another slap to your clit had you whining as you dug your heels into the bed to push away from him to little avail. It was the wrong answer.

“Not what you do to piss me off, I mean in general, doll. What’s the quickest way for someone to burn?” He spoke so casually about murder, it barely registered as anything odd to you. You took a moment longer to think about it, and he kindly let you as he returned to teasing your slit.

You shivered, “To hurt me…” you whispered softly, but moaned loudly the next moment when he sank a finger into you. Your head leaned back as he began pumping into you at the perfect pace, curling up even as your hips lifted to meet him. “Good girl…” he murmured, but he was watching the way your tight cunt took his finger.

“Next question.” He chuckled at your whine, clearly you weren’t an eager student. “Who would kill everyone if anything happened to you?” Despite his horrendous words, you couldn’t fathom caring as you felt the coil tightening inside you. “Y-you would, oh there!” You moaned wantonly as he slipped another finger inside and curled them to rub at that perfect spot. The sound of him finger fucking you was erotic and distracting.

“Fuck you’re so wet, I think you like these lessons…” his expression was salacious, and you tightened around him seeing it. He licked his lips, and you knew he was nearing his own limit if the tent in his boxers was any indication.

“Question number three, would I ever fucking let someone else touch you, let alone share you?” You moaned, feeling your orgasm approaching, fingers clenching the sheets in a death grip as you struggled to speak. He was doing it on purpose. Just a little more andー

He slid his fingers out before you could come, “Please!” It was a useless and futile plea.

He laughed, looking so amused as the grip around your neck got tighter and he pushed you back into the mattress. “Answer me sweet girl, or you won’t come again tonight.” It wasn’t a threat, it was a warning, and you knew from experience to take it seriously. He’d edge you the entire night. “N-no! You wouldn’t! You wouldn’t!”

Your fervent answer must’ve satisfied him, or he’d reached his limit. It hardly mattered when his thick cock bumped your clit. The swollen and reddened tip so hot in comparison to the cool metal of his piercings. You couldn’t spread your legs any further, only able to arch your back and beg for him to just fuck you already. He used his hand still wet with your juices to pump his shaft a few times, groaning when he finally did sink his tip into you.

Then he slammed fully inside and had you wailing.

“Fuck yes!” He hissed, gritting his teeth in a savage grin. His free hand now anchored your hip down, as he began a brutal pace of possessiveness and ownership. He was claiming your cunt as he fit every inch of himself inside you. Bullying your poor cervix as his balls slapped against your ass. He knew how to angle his hips to grind into your clit as well in this position, and it had you seeing stars when you came so suddenly.

His rhythm faltered only momentarily when he realized you’d came so quickly, chuckling as his ego soared. “Oh yeah? You love my cock that fucking much, dirty princess?” He wasn’t kind as he fucked you right through your orgasm. He grunted, pulling out of you only to flip you on your stomach and yank your ass up to fill you again from behind. It was a whole new stretch and pressure that had you noisily crying out as he pressed your face into the mattress. His chest against your back and vicious thrusts were animalistic but also so intimate. It was grounding as all thoughts left you and you surrendered to just feeling.

He must’ve felt it too, as he leaned back and slowed down to a more manageable pace for you to breathe.

“Last question… who owns this pussy?” It had you shivering, as you quietly managed to choke out his name.

His hand came down on your ass now, both sides smacked painfully. It only made the pleasure intensify as you tightened around his cock, making him moan. “Louder!”

“Dabiー” two more hits landed on your ass, the burning sensation coupled with the perfect way he filled you up had you nearing another orgasm.

“Poor thing,” he mocked, “Am I just fucking you that good? You can’t fucking think now? Who owns this pussy!?” He was already spanking you again as you wailed out your answer.

“You! Dabi! Dabi owns my pussy!” He was fucking you again in earnest and it only threw you over the edge again as you came on his cock for the second time. Both hands on your hips to rip you back on his cock as he bounced you off. Your head was spinning as you babbled nonsense, unable to keep your chest up as your arms gave out. He was chasing his own finish now though, roughly fucking you down into the mattress as you finally felt him say your name lowly and his hot cum fill you up.

You stayed like that for a minute or so as you both worked to catch your breath. As always though, Dabi recovered quicker as he lazily slid out of your twitching cunt now dripping his white hot load out and onto the bed. He reached out to spread you wider, a closer view to watch it run out of you. Then he used one hand to catch it, this time pushing it back inside of you and causing you to whine at the contact to your sore cunt.

“Dabi…” his name on your lips hoarse.

“I know, doll. Tired?” He asked so sweetly while still fucking his come back inside you.

“Yes…” he only hummed, finally losing interest as he helped you onto your back and kissed your tear stained cheek.

“You feel better?” His eyes were gentle and face relaxed as he began drawing mindless patterns across your face with the tip of his thumb. The soothing action had you blinking tiredly. You only nodded, a soft smile on your lips as the earlier ache and worry disappeared.

You should’ve known better. This man was a lunatic and out of his mind, your fears were unfounded.

“Good. Go to sleep, I’ll clean you up.”

When you’d finally drifted off to sleep, Dabi cleaned himself up and got dressed.

He had an author to burn alongside the book after all.

[roo-brr]

HES SUCH A PRETTY BOY

COMPARISON PIC I STOLE off twitter

I SAID I MISSED HIM AND I'VE GOT HIM BACK BUT AT WHAT COST

MY BABY 😭😭😭😭😭😭‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[bea-does-stuff]

𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬 (𝐦𝐡𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 305

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴: 𝘋𝘢𝘣𝘪, 𝘩𝘢𝘸𝘬𝘴

₊˚✩彡 𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈

He’s not gonna outright ask you, that's not his style, or more specifically, he’s too embarrassed to. Dabi’s scars sometimes hurt, he’ll just wake up and feel pain all over his body, this usually happens when he’s burning, so snuggling up to you was perfect to him, since you were like a block of ice compared to him.

Usually you're able to tell when he wants attention or love, but if you don’t realise, he’ll try to give you hints that he wants affection, typically by saying things like “Baby, y’know i’m not around often, might as well do something” or “Are you just gonna ignore me?” 

One day however, he worked up the courage to try and y“Hey, um, I was wondering if you wanted to…” he paused, all your focus was on him, which only embarrassed him more.

After a few seconds of silence, he simply picked you up with no warning, the sight of shock on your face making him chuckle, he plopped you on the couch as and then wrapped his arm around you waist as he pulled you in and laid his head on your shoulder 

“Y’know dabi, you could’ve just asked me for cuddles” you laughed “Shut up.”

₊˚✩彡 𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐒

This man is an attention whore, let’s face it. Whenever he gets home from work, all he wants to do is cuddle you until you both fall asleep, and he isn’t shy to admit it

If for some reason you reject his offer to cuddle, he will take it VERY personally, he’ll cup your cheeks and say “do you not love me anymore?” while pouting like a kicked puppy

If you still won’t budge, it will actually start to hurt him, did he do something wrong? Eventually he’ll get your attention one way or another, so prepare yourself..

He’ll poke you with his feathers, nuzzle you with his nose, just ANYTHING that will annoy

When you finally agree he  immediately pounces on you and gently wraps his arms and wings around you 

“about time.. Y’know i need my cuddles” 

[azareel-writes]

spoiled (and deserving)

♡ omega dabi/gn!alpha reader (established relationship) ♡ sfw! domestic life + pre-heat nesting

everything clicks together when dabi sinks into a cloud of your pillows and clothes. barely ten seconds pass before he realizes what's going on. he's nesting. he's in pre-heat.

it shouldn't be a surprise given the positive turn his life has taken. he's fed well, sleeping through the night instead on hair trigger vigilance, and most importantly, you. now his body's functions are catching up with him.

the fuzzy dreamlike state he was in faded away. dabi blinks a few times at the unfamiliar angle he's laying at and — god damn it, he's rearranged the entire bedroom.

he climbs out of the nest to assess the damage to the whole room. spare sheets folded over the windows to darken the den; the full size bed was now shoved into the corner where your dresser was supposed to be, the walls making a nice semi-enclosed space. he can definitely get this done before you come back from work. …right?

the thought of tearing down his nest stirs up something in his stomach. part of him knows you wouldn't mind him indulging in his secondary gender. but what if you don't? what if you don't want him?

"babe?" your voice comes from the other side of the bedroom door, followed by three gentle knocks. "you okay in there? i smelled something burning."

the omega's hands reflexively cup the sides of his neck. his scent glands are damaged from his burns. it takes a lot for him to produce a scent and it had to be the worst kind.

dabi clears his throat before answering in a steady voice. "everything's fine!"

you're quiet for a pause. "i've been sitting in the kitchen listening to you shuffle around for about fifteen minutes." they've been home that long?!

the doorknob turns.

he moves to intercept you but you're just a bit faster. the door opens and you stick your head in.

"um... where's the be— oh." you peek around dabi and the door. he wants to crawl into the nest and disappear.

you reach up and cup his face in your hands. like the lovesick fool he is, he leans into you. your lips curve into a smile. "so this is what you were doing?" you give him a gentle peck on the lips. "let's get you to the nest, yeah? you look you need it."

he nods and lets you guide him back to the nest. his body sinks into the blankets. safe, happy, good.

you slip the cardigan off your shoulders — your favorite, the one you wear all the time —and drape it over him.

"can i lay down in your nest?" you ask. his face heats up.

"it's yours too." he mumbles.

you slide in and gather his lanky body in your arms. the nest is a perfect fit for the both of you. you drag your hand through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. dabi melts with each stroke, pulling him further into sleep, saturated in the smell of dark chocolate, in the scent of alpha-mate and home.

on the precipice of sleep, he hears you whisper,

"i hope you know you're gonna get absolutely spoiled rotten." your chest moves with a soft giggle. "so be prepared, okay? you deserve it, dabi."

[shadowspromise]

More Soft, Needy Dabi 💙

☆彡 Your boyfriend Touya, who will crawl onto your lap and beg for cuddles when you’re trying to play a game on your computer.

“I don’t give a shit about your ‘pvp,’ gimme attention,” he whines, unplugging the mouse and throwing it across the room.

☆彡 Touya having a temper tantrum when you swat away his hand in public. You’re in a crowd and it would be easier to navigate separately, but he wants to hold your hand now.

“Gimme. Gimme. You’re so mean,” he complains, crossing his arms and literally pouting.

☆彡 Touya getting mad when you won’t let him lick the spoon after you bake some cookies. You don’t want him to get sick from the raw dough, but he interprets that as you being a meanie.

“Gimme the stupid spoon. Please? Pretty please? C’mon, I’ll be fine, I don’t get sick. Especially not from some stupid cookie dough,” he babbles on and on, eventually just taking the spoon and the bowl from the counter when you’re not looking.

☆彡 Touya, who is now throwing up at three in the morning because he ate raw cookie dough, is whining and begging you for sympathy while you hold back his hair while he’s “throw-uppie.”

“Is not my fault… just wann’d cookie dough… now I’m all throw-uppie…”

You sigh and pat his back while he bends over the toilet and gets all that cookie dough out of his system. You want to yell at him, but there’s something about a grown, scary man sick from eating cookie dough that’s just a little cute.

☆彡 Touya, your dear, sweet sweet Touya, who just tore open several staples on his chest because his dense ass just walked straight into a table. You have to fix him up while he swears at the table.

“Stupid fucking table… who even put it there… gonna burn it to ashes… fucking table…”

☆彡 Your boyfriend Touya, who is absolutely refusing to let you out of bed. It’s nearly the afternoon and you have things to do, but Touya has thrown his body on top of yours so you physically cannot move.

“Touya, can I get up now?” you ask. “Nope,” he responds plainly, shoving his face into your neck and falling back asleep.

☆彡 Cute, adorable Touya, who is letting you put little braids into his hair, along with some butterfly clips and a flower crown.

“Oh, you’re so cute, Touya,” you smile, kissing his forehead. “Hell fucking yes I am,” he says with a devious smirk on his face.

[emotionalmessss]

Weird request, but would you be willing to take a shot at a Dabi headcannon list where the reader's family was friends with the Todoroki family, so he knew her before the fire when she was still a little girl?

A/N: ou, I'll definitely give this one a shot. I took a different approach with this one, so I hope I answered alright. :) I haven't written in months, so I'm kinda rusty and completely ran with this, sorry.

Warnings: slight spoilers for season six of MHA

Touya, despite being an energetic kid, was shy when you first started coming around the Todoroki household. 

At first, he would stay hidden and watch you play with his siblings down in the courtyard, opting to observe you through the balcony railing. Or he’d be too focused on training his Quirk in another room.

He never really said all the much to you, only a few words here and there, but that didn’t stop you from trying to interact with him.

As Fuyumi tosses a ball at Natsuo, you spot Touya out of the corner of your eye, who leans back against one of the wooden support beams and observes. 

You couldn’t help but grin when you notice him, turning to give him your full attention, and trying to beckon him over with a frantic wave of your hand. 

“Touya! Come join us!” You call out towards him, your bright smile never fading as you urged him to play. 

Touya glances over at the sound of your voice, his hand tucked inside the pockets of his pants. Averting his eyes and drawing his lips into a thin line, as he contemplates your offer. For a moment, that stubborn look of his fades, and it looks as though he’s about to concede, but at the last minute, he pushes himself off the wooden beam and retreats upstairs. 

Your smile faded slightly and your shoulders slump in response to his denial, but your innocent self quickly shakes off the sting of rejection. He probably just wants to train, you think to yourself. 

Eventually, as you started to come around the house more often, Touya slowly found himself getting more comfortable around you. 

He started talking to you more than he usually did, and rejecting less of your offers to come and play. Oddly enough, whenever you were around, his entire focus was on you.

You could say that this was just innocent child curiosity, but it was something different. The faint blush and quick aversion of his eyes whenever you caught him looking at you, how he occasionally asked Rei when you’d be at the house again, and how excited he got when he’d offer to show you his Quirk.

He loved to innocently tease you, and tell you all about his plans in surpassing All Might, and becoming the Number One Hero. He would go on and on about it, since you were one of the few people who encouraged him and his goals.

Touya’s head immediately poked out of his bedroom when he heard the front door open and close, followed by the familiar sound of your voice. Less than a second later, he quickly makes his way over to the front entrance with an excited bounce in his step. 

“C’mon, I wanna show you something cool!” His voice taking on a higher pitch, laced with a sense of urgency. He grins and grabs ahold of your hand, barely giving you enough time to take off your shoes before he’s tugging you down the hallway and into his room. 

Your eyes widen in pure awe as he holds up his hand, a bright flame flickering around his closed fists. “That’s so cool! You’re amazing!” 

A prideful smile spreads across his face at your response, which fills him up with a sense of satisfaction. There’s also a weird feeling that builds up in his stomach, one that he’s completely unfamiliar with. 

“You really think so?!” He questions, almost like he’s not used to this type of reaction. His smile widens and the heel of his right foot digs into the flooring when you nod.

His eyes shift from you to his fiery fist, and then back to you again. That look on your face, along with your praise causes Touya to completely ignore the gnawing heat that his Quirk produces — one that his body is ill equipped at handling. 

Years after the incident, now taking on the persona of Dabi, joining the League, and vowing revenge on Endeavor. The bitter reminders of being tossed aside like trash, the constant rejection, and being deemed a failure, all brewed beneath his aloof demeanour. 

That hatred wasn’t solely directed at his father, oh no, it stretched to that perfect little masterpiece. That fucking brat, nothing but a puppet.

But, deep beneath his hateful and resentful thoughts, there was one thought that occupied his mind more than he would’ve liked. You.

It would be a lie to say that Dabi didn’t try to get you out of his head, but it rarely seemed to work out in his favour. He would always tell himself that you didn’t matter and that he’s a kid anymore. After all, Touya Todoroki died. 

But getting someone like you out of his head was harder than he imagined. Even after everything, he could still see your beaming smile, and hear your innocent words of encouragement. 

Thoughts of you even started to distract him during his business with the League, especially when he was out searching for new recruits. Every time he noticed someone that looked even a tiny bit like you, his stomach would instantly knot up. Anxiety? Anticipation? Who knew. 

Whenever the League’s activities would venture a little too close to where you lived (again, why did he remember this?) he’d purposely hang back a bit, his impassive expression giving away none of his inner turmoil. 

[obitohno]

thinking of fwb! dabi who, after a few too many, reveals that on many a night, is it you who haunts his dreams. you’re giggling at the crooked tug of the corner of his mouth, only for your breath to falter when you realise that he’s not joking. his smirk is frozen on the stretch of his lips, the glint of his piercings a tad menacing as he leans just a little closer to catch the harsh intake of breath that is sucked between your lips.

‘you’re… you… uh,’ your skin is aflame with want, and hope dares to niggle at the centre of your chest. ‘really?’

‘really,’ he croons, edging his way into your personal space when the palm of his hand tickles over your bare knee, smoothing over the meat of your thigh. hypnotised, you’re little more than putty, leering up at him as his weight nestles between your thighs and presses you into the settee.

you’re awed, pulsing with a furious want for him that has kept you awake at night with your fingers slipped between your legs. your blood yearns for him, and solely because you’ve had a few too many, it is this excuse that allows you to blindly seek the solid form of his cock that insistently nudges just shy of where you need him.

thoughts foggy and pulse racing, somehow, you end up atop him. with the warmth of your thighs closed tight around his head, you think that he looks pretty like this, pliant and willing beneath you with pink cheeks that he attempts to hide by burrowing his face between your legs. his teeth are pinching their way across the crook of your hip, his fingers buried into the plush of your rear, pulling you closer, closer, and closer, still, until his nose nudges at your clit when his tongue claims home within the heat of your cunt. there’s an unfamiliar shape that morphs the wet of his mouth, and when you recognise it to be yet another piercing, you keen ever so sweetly, grinding the slick of your folds along his waiting tongue.

he touches himself too, when you demand it, palming at his swollen girth until it weeps a tacky, dribbling mess down the lengths of his fingers. fist curled tight around the base, he strokes upwards with a quick thwap, thwap, thwap, and with your fingers wrapped around the inky tresses of his hair, he forces you to a completion that aligns with his own. your toes curl with the magnitude of your climax, and his chest heaves with the effort to catch his breath, gracing you with the beauty of a smile that melts his ice-like stare.

he’s dreamt of this, too, he admits with a breathlessness that is moaned around the shape of your name.

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

[arvandus]

Touch Chapter 16 - A Night Out

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!AFAB!Reader

**18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI**

OVERALL FIC WARNINGS: Soft!Dabi, Fem!AFAB!Reader with a fictional backstory, fanon version of past events (I started this before the canon stuff dropped), manga  spoilers, canon deviation, drug abuse/withdrawal (with inaccuracies since it’s outside of my experience and relies on research and imagination), violence, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, hurt/comfort, pining, slow burn, eventual emotionally charged SMUT,  all characters will be written with complexity (i.e., no  one-dimensional/hateful representations). *please pay attention to specific warning tags within each chapter!*

CHAPTER WARNINGS: Drinking. Lots of drinking (both Dabi and reader). Overall drug themes apply; bar scene/club scene (look, we get to have some FUN in the chapter, OK?? We deserve it!)

Chapter Songs: I Wanna Be Yours by Arctic Monkeys/All I Need by Radiohead

Part 1   Part 15

Chapter 16: A Night Out

You were in the hideout briefly. Dabi changed into his more preferred attire of his stitched jacket, matching pants, and boots. He was free of his mask and his sunglasses now, and you were grateful to finally be able to see his face again.  His blue eyes looked at you with mirth when he showed up at your bedroom door.  You handed him your pills and he downed them with water before crinkling the bottle and tossing it into your trash can.

“You ready?” he asked.

“Do you need me to touch up your scars first?” you asked, your brow furrowed with concern.

The ‘yes’ hung on the edge of Dabi’s tongue, the desire for relief always present, but this time he swallowed it.  Wherever he was taking you, he didn’t want your sensory overload to be an issue.

“I’m fine,” he replied.

You narrowed your eyes at him.  “Uh-huh... you know, that word doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

“It means that I’ve got it under control.”

You pursed your lips and looked down at your attire. It was the same one you’d been wearing earlier: jeans, a shirt, and a jacket.

“Should I change...?” you asked.

Dabi shrugged. “Do you wanna change?”

“Depends.  Where are you taking me?”

“Not sure yet.” Dabi looked you over, head to toe, his eyes leaving fire in their wake across your skin. “You look great.  Let’s get outta here.”

You were too flustered to argue, so you followed him down the stairs and out the door into the night air. A gentle mist of rain was falling down slowly, coating everything in a diamond dust of dew drops.

“We might get soaked tonight...” you commented.

“You worry too much,” Dabi replied as he put his arm over your shoulder again.

A smirk played at your lips. “And you don’t worry enough.”

Your hand came up to interlock your fingers with his comfortably. Right now, you didn’t want to dwell on what it meant; you just wanted to enjoy the contact that he was suddenly offering so freely.

“Then we’re perfect for each other,” he teased.

Your skin burned hot at his flirting and he glanced at you, taking in the surprised look on your face that you struggled to bury. He smirked.

“Let’s get some dinner first,” he continued. “What d’ya want?”

“What can we afford?”

Dabi flashed the fat wad of cash nestled in the inner coat pocket against his chest.  “Whatever we want. My treat.”

Your eyes bulged. “Dabi! Where did you get that??”

Dabi scoffed.  “Did ya think I was just checking out your cute ass while I was walking behind you all day?”

“I— What??”

“Gotta make a living somehow, sweetheart.  I’m an expert pickpocket, remember?”

You did remember. But right now, Dabi pickpocketing was the last thing on your mind. He was getting under your skin on purpose, and you were enjoying it.  It felt like old times, before things had gotten... complicated.

“Pick your poison, doll. What’re ya feelin’?”

“Hmmm... how about sushi?” you suggested.

Dabi grimaced.  “Uhhh, gotta confession. I hate fish.”

You laughed. “How can you be Japanese and hate fish? It’s like a cultural staple.”

Dabi wrinkled his nose. “It tastes... fishy. And slimy. And I hate the way it smells.”

You laughed again. “Okay, not sushi then.  How about ramen?”

“Didn’t we have that recently? Twice?”

“Yeah, because it’s delicious.  I could probably live off ramen, to be honest...” 

“Hm.”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, smartass, what do you want to eat?”

“I know just the spot. We gotta hop on the bus, though.”

“Lead the way.”

A few minutes later, you stepped off the bus to see a small little restaurant.  Its entire front was a large window that was open to the street, with a counter and bar stools attached into the cement.  An animated neon sign of a ramen bowl danced on its low roofline.

“I thought you didn’t want ramen?” you asked confused.

“Surpriiise.” Dabi singsonged.  You began crossing the street together.  “The owner is a bit rough around the edges, and a total alcoholic. But his ramen is the best I’ve had.”

A canopy overhang allowed for protection from the drizzling as the two of you sat down at the counter.

“Oy,” said a gruff voice. You looked up to see an old man with what remained of his hair pulled back into a ponytail and tattoos up to his jaw line. “You again.”

“Long time no see.” Dabi replied.

The man nodded at you. “Who’s this?”

“A friend.”

Your heart sank in your chest at the label, and then you cursed yourself for being an idiot.  Of course you were friends.  All of this – helping you through your panic attack, letting you lean on him on the ride home, taking you out to get your mind off things... it was Dabi being a good friend.

A friend who held your hand.

A friend who put his arm around your shoulder.

A friend who almost kissed you the night before...

You refocused your attention when Dabi nudged you with his elbow.  “Huh??”

“What do you want?” Dabi repeated.

The old man waved his hand dismissively.  “Don’t worry, I’ve got just the thing.”  Then he set down a bowl of edamame for you to share and immediately began preparing the food.

“Wait, what just happened?” you asked.

Dabi laughed.  “You took too long deciding so he decided for you.”

“Oh.”

“You want something to drink?”

You stared at the list of beverages.  “Beer. Sapporo?”

Dabi’s grin widened. “Oh, loosening up now, are we?” He put the order in, holding up two of his fingers.  A moment later, two tall, ice-cold beer cans were placed in front of you.

You took a sip, letting the carbonation and flavor play on your tongue.  You didn’t answer right away, unease swimming in your chest. You took a few more sips.

“Dabi...” you finally probed. He looked at you sideways as he drank.  “Why are you doing this?”

What is this to you?

Dabi set the can down and began to fiddle with it, his fingers wiping patterns into the condensation.

“Because I didn’t want to go back there either.  We were both stir-crazy in that place.  Figured it was time to stretch our legs a little.  Tonight should just be about having fun.”

“Well...” you smiled. “If that’s the case, you know what I want?”

Dabi looked at you attentively, his eyes trying to pry the answer before your lips could give it. “What?” he replied.

“I want to get drunk.”

Dabi let out a surprised laugh.

Your grin widened. “Like, stupid drunk.”

“Wasted?”

“Absolutely shitfaced.” You grinned into your beer as you drank more of it down, letting it wash over the knot you felt in your gut.

Dabi laughed again. “I think we can manage that.”  He took another swig of his beer.  “This’ll be fun...” he muttered.

You didn’t want to think about anything tonight. You didn’t want to worry.  And you didn’t want to rehash what had happened earlier during the day.  All you wanted was a break, a night to feel like a normal person, to be able to feel like you were a part of the world again.

So, you drank, and laughed, and ate.  Dabi was right. It was the best ramen you’d ever had.  Thirty minutes later, your stomach was now full and happy, and your veins hummed warmly with the first beer you drank.  Just as you finished your can, another took its place.

You stared at it. “What’s this?”

Dabi held up his new can in a toast.  “You said you wanted to get wasted.  Cheers.”

“Oh God...” you laughed. “But I’m so full...”

“Don’t worry, doll. We got all night.”

“Really?”

Dabi shrugged. “Not unless you got plans with someone else,” he teased.

You laughed. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about in that department.”

“Not even your dealer friend from earlier?”  Dabi prodded curiously.

“Yatsu??”

“You two even have nicknames for each other. How cute.” he commented dryly, his stiff grin never reaching his eyes.

You rolled your eyes. “Uh, nooo.... I mean, there’s history there, but... it’s long past.”

The shop owner refilled the small bowl of edamame.  Dabi grabbed one and skinned it with his teeth.

“Yeah?” he said, “I’d be curious to hear that story...”

You laughed. “Not much to it, really... Yatsumoto was interested but I wasn’t.”

“Really?” Dabi’s sarcasm dripped heavy. “An upstanding guy like that?”

“I wasn’t too interested in relationships back then.  Very single focused on my research at the time.  Besides,” — you took a swig of your drink and then leaned into Dabi, your voice dropping to a whisper —  “he’s not really my type.”

You picked up an edamame shell and ate the soybeans from it.

“Oh yeah?  What is your type then?”

‘Someone tall, dark, and handsome with the world’s biggest daddy issues.’

You thought it, but didn’t say it.

A grin started on Dabi’s lips, a mischievous glint in his half-lidded eyes.  “Maybe someone who’s in horrible need of chapstick?”

Shigaraki instantly came to your mind, and you laughed. You threw the empty edamame shell at Dabi.  “What?? No.”

Dabi’s grin widened. “Hmm, maybe someone with a wide variety of personalities...”

“You’re terrible.”

“Or maybe someone who knows magic tricks.”

“Oh my God, no. Compress is like a brother to me, that’s so weird.”

Instant elation filled Dabi’s veins, but he tamped it down, keeping his expression neutral.  Instead, he grabbed another edamame.  “Coulda fooled me; you two seem close.”

“That’s because he’s the one who recruited me into the League,” you replied.  “He saved my life a while back.”

Dabi’s amusement fell apart at this new piece of information.  His smirk was gone, his expression neutral.

“What happened?” he asked.

“Not long after I’d been kicked out of the university, my place got broken into.  I came home when the robbers were still there, shuffling through my things.” You shuddered at the memory.  “They saw me, I saw them, and I ran.  They chased me down the stairs and outside... It was Compress who stopped them, popping up out of nowhere. I probably would have been killed if he didn’t show up...”

Dabi’s mind rolled over the information, filing it next to all the other little facts he’d gathered about you.

“Do you know what they were after?” he asked.

A half smile curled your lip that didn’t reach your eyes.  “They weren’t going through my bathroom or bedroom looking for jewelry or digging through my bags for cash. One of them had my laptop, and the other was shuffling through papers.”

“They were after your research.”

You snapped finger guns at him.  “Bingo.”

Dabi took a long draw of his beer and you followed suit.  He stared into the can as he swirled its contents slowly.  “So how does your brother fit into all of this?”

You had begun to raise your beer can to your lips, but you hesitated, then lowered it back down to the counter.  “He was the reason for my research.  I wanted to help him, figure out how  to make it so that his quirk couldn’t hurt himself or anyone else ever again.  And I needed to prove that he wasn’t a bad person. That it was his quirk manifesting itself, forcing itself to be expressed.”

Dabi stared at you for a long moment.  “What was his quirk?”

You hesitated again, and Dabi began to have second thoughts about his questioning. Tonight was supposed to be about having fun, and at this moment, you weren’t smiling. The gentle misting began to transition into heavier drops, the sound drumming on the canopy above you.

Dabi opened his mouth to rescind his question, but you answered before he could.

“Others called it Mind Flay, but he called it Tabula Rasa.”

“Blank Slate,” Dabi hummed. “That doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“It wasn’t,” you replied. “He had the ability to make people literally lose their minds. Like, one moment they’d be themselves, and the next moment, they’d be a dumb, drooling mess. Like he wiped them clean, basically turning them into vegetables.”

Dabi fell silent as his mind ran through the ramifications of such a quirk.  “When did it manifest?”

You gave a sardonic laugh. “The same age it did for everyone else; at around 4 years old.”

Dabi let out a low whistle. Kids were small, emotional creatures. A child having that level of power...

Dabi wondered who the first victim was.  A family member? A classmate? A teacher?

You drank more of your beer as if it helped you get the words out.  “He was older than me,” you explained.  “He was in and out of institutions for years, so I didn’t see him very much. My parents put him through every kind of therapy imaginable, every quirk suppression program. They’d think it worked, but then it’d happen all over again. Like he couldn’t help himself.  It’d come out when he was angry... or when he was protective...”

You swallowed, and Dabi realized you had tears in your eyes.

“We don’t gotta talk about this.” he said.

You gave a small laugh and wiped at your eyes.  “Sorry,” you replied.

Dabi gave a dry laugh. “You did it again.”

“What?”

“Apologized when you didn’t need to.”

“Oh,” you laughed.  

Dabi cut you off before the words could fall from your lips again.  “Don’t say it.”

You laughed and gave him a light shove.  “Get out of my head.”

You were smiling again; and it made the pressure sitting on Dabi’s chest ease slightly.

“I shouldn’t have asked,” he said.

“I don’t mind. I just...” you stared into your beer can.  “I might need more alcohol than this if you want to hear the rest.”

Dabi gave a small smile. “I know a place.”

He paid the bill, finished the last of his beer, and the two of you left the protection of the canopy to venture out into the rain.  You held onto his arm and pressed yourself against his side against the cold as the two of you made your way down the street.  He skipped the first bar, knowing they overcharged for their alcohol, and then ushered you quickly into the next one.

It was busy, a small dive bar packed with bodies, the sound of pool balls being struck at the opposite end of the room.  Music played loudly over the speakers, blending in with the hum of multiple drunken conversations.  Dabi managed to spot an open bar stool and squeezed you onto it.  He remained standing next to you and had to put his mouth to your ear to ask you what you wanted.  You had to do the same to answer him, and he leaned across the counter to give your orders to the bartender.

A moment later, your drinks were in front of you.

“Aren’t you worried about being recognized here?” you shouted into Dabi’s ear.

Dabi leaned close to speak. “Nah, not here.  This side of town doesn’t give two shits. Half of the people here are wanted by the Hero Commission anyway.”  You stared at him with uncertainty, and he leaned in even closer, his hand warm on your back.  “You’re safe, doll. I promise.”

So, you sat and drank, the place too loud to carry a conversation.  Eventually the seat next to you opened up and Dabi took it.

A couple of drinks later, and you were feeling the effects of the alcohol much more. You felt more liquid than person, and you swayed slightly to the thrumming of music that played over the speakers, barely audible over the din of the space.  Dabi watched you silently with a half-lidded gaze, his eyes always observing.  You didn’t bring up your brother again, and Dabi didn’t ask, determined to keep the smile on your face for as long as possible.

After a little while, he leaned over to speak to you.

“Do you play pool?” he asked.

“What?”

“Pool.” he repeated.

You looked over at the pool table and noticed it was empty.  In fact, the entire bar had a little less people in it, some of the patrons deciding to continue their bar hopping elsewhere.  Still, it remained plenty busy, and you knew the table would get snagged up immediately.

Before you could answer, Dabi grabbed your hand and yanked you off the bar stool. Before you got too far, you grabbed your drink from the counter and brought it with you.

You stared at the table in front of you as Dabi grabbed a couple of cue sticks from the wall.

“This is a bad idea,” you chuckled.

Dabi looked up at you as he began setting the balls into the triangle.  “Why?”

“Because I’m fucking drunk, Dabi...” you laughed.

“You? Drunk?” he teased. He stepped closer to you and held up his fingers.  “How many fingers am I holding up?”

You rolled your eyes. “Three.”

“Eh, you’re fine.”

“Wait, did I get it right??” you asked.

Dabi’s grin widened and he refused to answer.  “Do you wanna break or should I?”

“Hm, you go first. I’m waiting for the room to stop spinning.”

“Suit yourself.”  Dabi hit the cue ball and the triangle of balls burst in all directions.  The purple ball fell into the corner pocket. “You’re stripes.”

You puffed air out of your cheeks and took a sip of your drink for courage.  You stepped up to the table, lined up your cue stick, and missed horribly.

Dabi laughed, and you shot him a glare.

“I told you I was too drunk for this.”

“C’mon doll, you’re just a lil’ rusty,” he chided.  Dabi lined up his next shot and sank another ball.

“How are you so good at this?” you complained.  “And how am I drunker than you??”

“Experience,” he replied.

You mimicked his response with a bratty tone and a scrunched-up face. “Experience. Please.”

You lined up your shot, and this time you hit the ball, but barely, the cue stick sideswiping. It caused the ball to spin off at the wrong angle before bouncing off one of Dabi’s, causing his to roll into the side pocket.

“Hey, thanks for that.” he commented.

“I swear to God, Dabi. If you don’t stop with your commentary, it’s gonna be your balls next.”

Dabi burst into laughter at your empty threat.  “Based on your hits tonight, I don’t think I’m too worried about it.”

You gave a shocked laugh. “You’re an asshole.”

“Oh, c’mon doll. Don’t be like that.  Tell you what, I’ll give you a free shot.” He coaxed as he leaned on his cue stick.

You narrowed your eyes at him and took your position again.  Just as you were about to strike, Dabi interrupted.

“Hold on.”

“What?”

“Your form is all wrong.”

“Shut up, no it’s not.”

Dabi put his hands up in defense. “Okay, sure.  Go for it.”

You squinted at him, half to get your vision to focus and half to glare at him.  You repositioned yourself again, but now doubt and two failures loomed over you.  Finally, you cursed and stood up.

“Damn it.  Okay, fine.  Show me what I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not holding your cue stick right,” he commented.

“What do you mean?”

Dabi modeled for you. You tried to imitate, but hand-eye coordination was getting more and more difficult. He chuckled at your attempt and leaned his cue stick against the table.  Then he came up behind you, his hands on your hips.

His touch sent a shock of pleasure through you, and you sidestepped out of his hold.  “What are you doing??” you demanded, your eyes wide.

“Relax, doll,” he laughed. “I’m gonna help you.”

You let him get in position behind you, his body lining up with yours.  You could feel his breath on your ear, and it made every nerve sing at peak frequency.  He placed his hands over yours, setting up your hand along your cue stick.

“You hold it like this, and...” -- Dabi slowly moved the stick back and forth within your hands -- “you hit it like this.” He pointed to the middle and the bottom of the cue ball. “You’ll want to hit the ball here or here. Got it?”

You glanced at him, and instantly realized how close his face was to yours, your nose practically brushing his when you turned your head to look him in the eye.  His hand was on your waist, and all you could think about was closing the distance to kiss him.  But he broke his gaze with you and nodded at the pool table.

“Give it a try.”

Dabi stayed next to you, his body lined up with yours as you lined up your shot and took it the way he showed you. This time, you hit the ball you wanted, but it bounced off the edge, and hit the eight ball.

“Wha... NO!” you yelled as the black ball rolled into a pocket.

That was it. That was the game.  Dabi won.

“Wow. That was actually impressive how bad that was.”

You smacked his chest with the back of your hand. “I told you I was too drunk for this.”

“Hey, at least you hit the ball…”

You stuck your tongue out at him and took another sip of your drink. He cocked his head to the side as he looked at you.

“How’re you feelin’?”

“Good,” you replied with a smile.

“Good. Let’s try again.”

“Nooo,” you whined.

“C’mon, don’t be a sore loser. I thought you wanted to have fun,” he teased.  “Besides, that was barely a game.”

“Ugh, fine.  But don’t they have like... cards here or something?”

“I’d probably win at that too.  Something tells me my poker face is better than yours.”

“You are so full of yourself, aren’t you?”

Dabi chuckled as he set up the balls again.  “You break this time.”

You lined up your stick and hit the cue ball, sending the balls scattering.

Time passed as you played, Dabi refilling your drink when you asked as you bantered with him between turns.  Your skills improved slightly, with Dabi giving you tips here and there.  But the progress was hindered by the way you had difficulty focusing and the way your body didn’t always move the way you intended it to.  You made it through two games, with Dabi beating you both times before you finally gave up, the floor beneath your feet pitching much more than it had before.

“I quit,” you finally said.

You leaned on your cue stick, your body swaying slightly. Dabi was next to you, so you took the opportunity to lean against his chest to ground yourself.  But between the alcohol, stuffy bar, and his body heat, you pushed him away almost immediately.

“Ugh, you’re too hot,” you complained.

Dabi chuckled.  “Come on…”

He took you back to the bar and you sat down onto the barstool with less grace than you’d had before. It wasn’t your fault; the damn thing seemed to move.  There were no other seats again, so he stood next to you like before.

You laid your head on the counter, letting the cool, smooth surface soothe your forehead.

“She okay?” the bartender asked.

Dabi nudged you. “You okay?” he repeated.

With your head still down, you gave a thumbs up. 

“She’s good,” he replied.

You zoned out to the sound of the bar noise and the music playing, your body swaying slightly to the beat.  A moment later, a glass of water appeared in front of you.

“What’s this?” you demanded.

“Water, drink up,” Dabi ordered.

You shook your head. “Nuh-uh.”

“Your call... you’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow.”

“Where’s my drink?” you asked, looking around bleary-eyed.

“You finished it.”

“Oh.  It was good, can I have another?”

Dabi stared at you for a long moment.  Then he pushed the water glass towards you.  “Drink, doll.  You’ll thank me later. Then I’ll order more.”

You grumbled but drank it anyway.  As promised, Dabi ordered you another drink, and you gave a happy wiggle as you began to drink it.

Dabi leaned against the bar counter with his head propped in his hand.  He stared at you.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What?”

“I like you like this.”

“What? Drunk?” you teased.

“Happy,” he corrected.

You stilled for a moment as you looked at him. 

“It’s because I’m with you,” you confessed.

Your answer seemed to surprise him, his eyes widening slightly as his grin faltered.  He gave a scoff.  “I’m sure the alcohol is helping too.”

“Shut up and take the compliment,” you retorted.  “I’m happy with you.  You make me happy.”

Dabi’s cheeks were starting to hurt from how much you were making him grin, the bruise and the torn skin thrumming low.  “You’re repeating yourself now.”

“It’s so you’ll listen to me,” you replied adamantly as you took another sip.  Your thoughts were more fluid now, your usual filters and reservations carried away on the current of booze in your system.

“I think…” you started thoughtfully, “I thought going back to the hide out would help me feel better. But...”

“But it didn’t.”

You shook your head. “I looked at that place and I just felt... lonely.”

“And you don’t feel lonely now?” Dabi asked.

You shook your head again and leaned against his shoulder.  “I feel safe.”

Dabi froze under the contact as your confessions fought with his own denials.  You weren’t safe with him. He was unstable and violent and he didn’t deserve your trust.

But you were smiling now, and he couldn’t say that.

He turned his body towards you slightly to put his arm around your shoulders, and you nuzzled comfortably against his chest.

“You ready to go back?” he asked.

“Not yet,” you whined.

“You sure? You’re looking awfully shiftfaced now.”

“No, I’m not!”

“Says the girl falling asleep over her glass...”

You sat up and pushed against his chest with your hands. “Shut up.” Then, your eyes lit up with an idea. “Oh! I know!  You know what I want?”

Dabi quirked an eyebrow at you.  “More alcohol?”

You pointed at him. “Yes.  But also, I want to dance.”

Dabi’s grin vanished immediately. “What??”

“I want to go dancing!” you repeated.  “C’mon Dabi, pleeaassee?”

Dabi stared at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. 

Dabi was familiar with the club scene.  He used to visit it frequently before the League, chasing quick highs and whatever chick would spare him a passing glance in an effort to drown his pain in a few cheap hours of euphoria.  He knew just the place to go, a place that was safe for people like him, where they didn’t really care about IDs or police records, where cash and drugs were the only currency that mattered.

But it’d been a long time since he’d been there, and the place was filled with temptations and potential dangers. It was no place for someone like you.

Besides, you already looked ready to fall over.

“I bet you can’t even walk straight.”

“Yes I can!”

“Okay, prove it.  If you can walk out of here without help and without bumping into anyone, then I’ll take you dancing.”

It was a tall order as the world tilted on its axis around you, but you were stubborn and determined.

Dancing.  To be able to finally move your body, to feel the freedom of music against your skin.  You hadn’t realized how wound tight you’d been since you’d lost everything and joined the League.  It’d been nonstop healing, and sneaking around, and hiding away.  Dancing, even for a little bit, to lose yourself to movement and be just another face in the crowd, sounded like just what you needed.

With determination, you stood up from your stool.  The motion instantly made you lightheaded, and you swayed on your feet, balance eluding you.  Dabi’s arms were out in an instant, catching you, and you fell against his chest in a fit of giggles.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“No, no,” you giggled. “I can do this.”

“Doll, you already failed the test.”

“Shh!” you put a finger to his lips, but now the giggles had you and you couldn’t stop them.

Dabi’s arms were around your waist as your arms hung around his neck.  You swayed in his hold, the motion soothing.  Your vision focused on him, and for once you allowed yourself to blatantly stare at his beauty, at the shape of his jaw, the color of his eyes, even the staples along his cheeks. Your thoughts made their way seamlessly from your brain to your mouth.

“You’re really hot,” you cooed.

“Yeah, you told me earlier.”

“No, I mean, like... you’re hot.  Like attractive, hot.  It’s unfair how hot you are.”

Dabi, for all of his self-control, couldn’t stop the heat from warming his cheeks, and he forced a laugh as he began to untangle your fingers from his neck.  The way your eyes were looking at him, the way your tongue peeked out to wet your lips...

“Okay, now I know you’re shitfaced.”

“Shut up, it’s true.”

“Everyone looks more attractive when you’re drunk.”

You looked around at all the other faces at the bar.  “That’s not true...” you muttered.

Dabi laughed again while internally his mind was spinning.  You were going to be the death of him.  God, he wished you were saying this shit while you were sober... he wondered if you’d even remember any of it.

He sighed. “Let’s get you home.”

“But what about the dancing??”

“We’ll have to save it for another time.”

You pouted as Dabi began to lead you out of the bar.  The realization that your evening of fun was coming to an end made the weight of dread return to your shoulders.  Tears pricked your eyes as you began to leave.

You didn’t want this to end. You didn’t want to stop being with Dabi, spending time with him like this.  You didn’t want to go back to that stuffy hotel with your medical bag and PTSD waiting for you.

Once you stepped outside, Dabi let go of your hand and walked ahead of you.  The cold night air began to clear your head slightly. Everything was coated in rainwater now as the low, heavy clouds passed over you, painted in the yellowish-brown light of the city; but there was a lull in the rainfall that gave a much-needed reprieve and brought a heavy hush upon the quiet street compared to the boisterous bar inside.

You inhaled the air deep into your lungs, letting the damp crispness cool your blood. You stared ahead of you at Dabi, donned in his black coat, his black hair lit under the streetlamp. He turned to look at you, and for a moment you stood still and stared. He was picturesque, the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

“What?” he asked.

“I...” you swallowed, a million different responses piling onto your tongue at once.

I don’t want to go back.

I want to be with you a little longer.

I want you to kiss me.

I never should have left last night...

God, you cared for him. You cared for him more than you had let yourself realize. But now, here away from the chaos, with your worries subdued under liquor and fresh air, you understood just how incredibly head over heels you were for him. It scared you, because he was not someone you ever thought you’d fall for.  He was self-destructive, broken, and single-minded in his obsession.  It left little space in his heart for anything else.  But he was also intelligent, highly self-aware, and surprisingly kind, in his own way.  You’d begun to see a side to him that you hadn’t known existed before, and it was a side that only you ever seemed to witness, something that was reserved special for you. You felt protected by it, cared for.  In a world that had tried to erase you, he somehow made you feel... wanted.

All you could think as you stood there unable to answer, was that you wanted to be with him always.

Dabi’s dark brows furrowed and he stepped close to you, his eyes looking over your face through his black bangs.  His thumb came up and brushed fresh tears from your cheek.

“Why are you cryin’ again, doll?” His voice was deep, coating you like honey, and you closed your eyes to let it wash over you.

You hadn’t realized you were crying; you hadn’t felt the tears fall, too focused on your emotions as your skin hummed like an aura around you.  You could still feel the ghost of his touch on your cheek, even though he’d already lowered his hand.

You shook your head in disbelief.  So much you wanted to say, but you couldn’t say any of it.  Not without scaring him away.  If he learned how deeply you felt about him...

You’re not my type.

You understood those words more clearly, now.  It wasn’t that you weren’t his type; it was that Dabi didn’t have a type. He wasn’t someone who would commit, who would settle down. He couldn’t even picture a future for himself beyond taking down his father.

But you didn’t want to face that either, because that train of thought only led to more heartache. What you wanted was to remember the way he put his arm over your shoulder, the way he wiped your tears from your cheeks, from the way he’d hovered over you the night before, his eyes drinking you in as if you were all he wanted.  You wanted to hold his hand, to lean against him as you sat together, to bask in his attention a bit longer.

“I...” you started again. “I’m not ready.  I’m not ready to go back.”

Dabi stared at you, his expression unreadable, and you could tell he was deciding on what to do next. He looked around, taking in his surroundings, and checked the time on his phone.  It was late, but not terribly; there were at least another couple of hours before the public transportation systems shut down for the night.

“You wanna dance that badly?” he asked.

What you wanted was more time to pretend. To pretend that this was more than what it was, to pretend that you were two regular people enjoying each other’s company and seeing where things went without worry or consequence about what sat on the horizon.

“I... I just want a little more time,” you whispered, “to feel normal.”

Dabi stepped even closer, his body inches from yours. His long fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead, his eyes following his action.

“You’re the most normal girl I’ve ever known.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the odd compliment, and Dabi’s lips turned up at the corners slightly.

“If we stay out longer, I might need more of your pills.  Do you have any on you?”

You anticipated this possibility and pulled the small Ziplock bag out of your pocket.  Dabi took the pills you offered, noting the few remaining.  You tried not to stare too intently at the way he placed them onto his tongue and swallowed them, but you were pretty sure you were failing at being discrete.

He put his arm over your shoulder. “Come on.”

Warmth swelled from his touch, and a great wave of euphoric victory washed over you. Your smile came back.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“Dancing.”

Dabi led you towards the train station where he grabbed a quick snack from the vending machine and a drink.  Once you were seated in the empty train car, you ate as you watched the city lights pass by. While you watched the city, Dabi watched you.  He watched the way your eyes lit up, the longing in them as you looked out at what used to be your home, at a world that you’d been cut off from.

Normal.  You wanted to be normal.  And Dabi meant what he’d said. You were as normal as they came. You never belonged with the League, but you did it out of necessity. The way you talked about it made it sound like a cage, and the more Dabi thought about it, the more he realized that for you, it probably was.

He wondered what you would be like if you could have your freedom again. If you could exist without fear, without worry, without pain.  How much brighter would your smile be? How much happier would you feel?  He could picture it; you, successful and happy, with a career, a home, a family... you seemed like the type that would want a family.

But no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t picture himself there with you.  His future didn’t hold the potential that yours did, and he didn’t want the things that he assumed you wanted.  No matter which way he looked at it, he didn’t belong there, his dark shadow blocking out the light that you desperately needed to flourish.

And yet, for some reason, you always shined brightest when you were with him.  You were happiest with him.  You’d even said so with your own words.  The safety that you’d been seeking before wasn’t at the hotel; it was with him.

His mind and his heart couldn’t reconcile the two realities.  They co-existed in his consciousness, yet their edges never touched.

You wanted to feel normal, but Dabi knew that normal would no longer be possible for you.  Not after what had happened to you, how they had tried to erase you.  There was nothing for you to go back to, not with hero society being what it was, the status quo still locked in place and the people who hurt you still in power.

Dabi mourned his past while you mourned your future.

So, you wanted to pretend tonight.  Dabi couldn’t blame you.  That’s why he changed his mind, even though discomfort and warning bells nagged at the back of his consciousness.  That was why he took your pills so that he could stave off any temptation he might feel once you both reached your new destination. It was the only option available that he had in order to give you want you wanted.

He’d let you pretend. And maybe... just for a little bit... Dabi could pretend too.  He could set aside his identities of Dabi and Touya, stashing them away to a deep, dark place inside himself.  They would never be gone from him entirely but, maybe tonight, he could quiet their screaming for just a little while. He could pretend, take on a third, unnamed identity.  No one important, just some guy having a night out with a girl that he had a crush on.

You stepped off the train with Dabi into a different neighborhood.  More bars lined the streets here, more people walked the sidewalks. The heavy thrums of music spilled out of open club doors into the streets where people lined up for entry.

Dabi led you along with his arm over your shoulder, keeping you close to him.  It was as if he were making sure you didn’t get separated from him, lost in the throngs of drunken passersby. And it was a good call, too... you were still very much tipsy, your balance uneven as you followed along. Your eyes kept getting distracted by the things around you, and Dabi had to guide you around oncoming strangers more than once.

“Careful, doll,” he muttered.

“Sorry,” you said off-handedly. His hand gave your shoulder a small squeeze.

You were looking around, trying to guess which club he would take you to.  Instead, he turned down a dark alley.

“Wait, what...?”

“Just trust me.”

So you did, letting him guide you until you found a back door entrance with a line of strangers waiting.

“What is this place?”

“It’s a special place for people like us,” he replied. Then he grinned down at you.  “What, do you think villains are just constantly fighting and stealing all the time?”

You smiled and leaned against him as you waited.  The closer you got, the more anxious you felt, a mixture of fear and excitement. You could feel the music in your feet now, could hear how the building seemed to vibrate from the bass that spilled out of the open door.

“You still got those extra pills on you?” Dabi asked, his eyes ahead.

“Yeah, why?”

“Hand ‘em over.”

You hesitated, and Dabi looked down at you.

“They’re not for me, doll. Money’s not the only currency here, and that stack of cash I had is gonna dry up if we’re not careful. We still gotta be able to get back later.”

Discomfort stirred across your skin, but you pulled out the pills and handed the bag to him anyway.

“Good girl,” he muttered as he pocketed them.

The reaction your body had to those two simple words was astronomical, heat washing over you and moisture pooling between your legs.  It took you by surprise, and you bit your lip to keep yourself composed as you took another step forward in the line.

It wasn’t long before it was your turn to go in. You had expected them to check ID, but instead, Dabi talked to the man guarding the door in low whispers. A few words and an exchange of bills and the pills and you were finally in.

The atmosphere smothered you instantly, invading all of your senses.  The noise, the smell, the heat, the vibrations, the flashing lights and smoke... It was overwhelming at first, but Dabi kept his arm over you, guiding you through it.  Your eyes took it all in, watching people dancing, grinding, making out.  You averted your eyes, realizing exactly what you’d gotten yourself into and who you were with.

You turned your attention back ahead when Dabi stopped, and you realized he’d found the bar.

“I’m gonna need a drink before we do this,” he commented, his voice loud to override the noise. “You want one?”

Yes. Yes, you definitely needed another drink.

You nodded at him.

“Whad’ya want? Better make it strong, this is probably our last one for tonight,” he replied as he checked the money left in his hand.  The stack was significantly thinner than when you first started.

You gave him your order, picking something that would taste awful but be highly effective.  He grinned at you and gave the order to the bartender.  A minute later, you both had your own drinks. You took a sip of yours and grimaced.

“You’re not gonna scold me?” he teased, holding his drink up for emphasis.

You scoffed.  “Would it make a difference?” you asked.

Dabi laughed.  “Not really.”

“Exactly.”

Dabi’s shoulder bumped yours playfully.  “Don’t worry, doll.  I’ll get you home safe.”

A small smile tugged at your lips.  “I know you will,” you replied.

You watched the people on the dance floor with longing as you sipped at your drink, waiting for the effects to kick in. You needed to be drunk enough to not care about how you danced or who was watching. You need to be drunk enough to be able to nearly forget yourself and all your troubles.

While you watched the dance floor, Dabi kept an eye out for any potential trouble.  His eyes caught a couple popping pills in their mouths and chasing it with alcohol.  Further away, a group of girls bent over a table, snorting white powder into their noses off their makeup mirrors.  In this place, no one cared what anyone else did, as long as they didn’t start any fights.

Dabi’s arm around your shoulder tightened as he looked away, angling you slightly so the groups were behind you.  He didn’t want you to see it. He didn’t want you to see any of it. Because as soon as you did, he knew you’d want to leave, your worry over him greater than your desire for freedom.

And Dabi understood why. He could feel the pull of it, the drag of the old familiar behaviors brought forth by old memories of a time when he didn’t care about consequences.  If he were by himself, he probably wouldn’t be able to resist it, the temptation too great.  But this time, he had you with him, and it was you that kept him grounded.

It was excruciating waiting; he finished his drink long before yours, knowing the sooner he finished it, the sooner it would hit, and the sooner he’d be able to sober up later. It mixed with your pills in his gut and he could feel the lightheadedness, could feel the numbness settle over him comfortably. His scars didn’t hurt, and the headaches and nausea that came and went each time your medication wore off was once again silent.

But he still had enough awareness to realize how stupid he was being, the risk he was taking by bringing you here.  He was being a damn idiot just to make you happy and keep you smiling. What if he fucked up again? What if he couldn’t stop himself? What if he got caught up in something and you ended up getting hurt tonight?

That single possibility lingered in his mind, and he used it to shackle himself to you, using your presence as a lifeline.  He refused to let it happen.  He’d never be able to forgive himself if it did.

He watched as you finally finished the last of your drink.  Your body was loose and untethered again, and you swayed subconsciously to the music.

“You ready?” he asked.

The sooner he could get you out onto the dance floor, the easier all of this would be for him.  He’d let you dance, you’d get what you needed out of your system, and then he’d take you home.

He just needed to not see it. He needed to be distracted.  He needed to stay focused on you.

You stared at him, eyes wide with hesitancy.  But there was longing there as well, hidden behind the glassiness of your eyes.

“Yeah,” you finally answered.

He let you lead the way, allowing you to pick your way through the crowd to find a space where you could squeeze in.  Dabi followed behind you, his hand on your waist to make sure you didn’t get lost and to make sure no one else tried to approach you.

The music was upbeat and fast paced, the kind that made people want to jump and sway and sing. Your body fell into it naturally, carried along on the beat.

Dabi stood, his body frozen to distraction as he watched you move.  Your eyes were closed, every part of you in motion, and he could tell that you were happy as your mouth sang the lyrics.  It was as if he weren’t even there, or more like you weren’t there anymore, just a vessel through which the music moved through. It was a tide that you ebbed and flowed with, and Dabi was the rock.

You loved to dance. Dabi had never even thought about it before; he’d never once asked himself what it was that you liked, what you enjoyed. And the more he thought about it, the more he realized how little he really knew about you. It only made the curiosity burn brighter, hotter.

What else made you happy?

You pulled him back to reality with a tug of your hand, your eyes and face alight with joy.

“Dance with me!” you pleaded.

So, he did, his body coming up to fit behind yours. He let you set the motions, let your hips lead his as his arm wrapped around your waist.  His body burned like fire everywhere your bodies touched, and he let it consume him, let himself get lost between you and the music, finding solace in a place where time had no meaning and all that mattered was the movement, the rhythm, the feel and smell of your skin.

The songs changed, blending from one to the next as you danced together, heady from alcohol and arousal.  You stopped thinking, you stopped worrying. You let yourself drift in happiness with Dabi pressed against you, his body like a brand against your skin that burned itself into your soul.  You were tingling, your skin singing everywhere.  

The palms of Dabi’s hands grazed the curve of your shoulders and down your arms until they found their home on your hips, his fingers curling around and bringing you flush against him as you danced.  The movement of your bodies were different now, changing, evolving.  And faintly, you realized that a threshold was being crossed, a line drawn in the sand that was being etched away with each hot breath across the shell of your ear.  You could feel Dabi’s belt buckle against your lower back, could feel the denim of his jeans and the firmness beneath it that had made itself at home against the curve of your ass, and all you could think of was how you wanted more, more, more.

Every inch of you began to tighten like a coil, and you weren’t the only one.  Dabi lowered his head until his nose was brushing the crook of your neck, his lips ghosting over your shoulder but never quite touching, never actually reaching out and...

Your movements together slowed to a standstill as people continued to dance around you.  Dabi tucked his nose behind the shell of your ear, the breath from his lips tickling your neck in ragged gusts.

He was holding back. Every fiber of Dabi’s being was pulled tight as he fought every natural urge that coursed through his veins.

Your hand reached up to tangle your fingers into his hair soothingly.  It was hot and sweaty, the strands sticking between your fingers. You scratched at his scalp, and he hummed, the vibration echoing in your own chest.

“You okay?” you said just loud enough for him to hear.

He growled low and his grip tightened, fingers digging into the plush of your hips, causing your breath to hitch.

“You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

You turned in his arms to look at him, and he stared back, his ocean eyes glowing with hunger.  You put your arms around his neck, and you moved in a gentle sway, even as the music continued to pound loudly and quickly around you.

“Am I now?” you grinned.

Dabi’s eyes narrowed at you.

His hands gripped your ass and pushed you tight against him until there was no mistaking just how crazy you were making him, just how badly he wanted you.

“Yeah. You are.”

His action stole a little gasp from your lips, and he grinned devilishly.  It only emboldened you, eager to finally rip away the thin, false veneer of a boundary that no longer existed between you.

“So...” you said as you put your forehead to his, your noses bumping gently, “what’re you gonna do about it?”

He could feel your hot breath, could smell the alcohol on your tongue.  He squeezed his eyes shut, his brows furrowed.  You were drunk, he was drunk and slightly high, and none of this was supposed to be happening.

He shouldn’t do this, he shouldn’t...

He didn’t want you to wake up in the morning and regret this, to write this off as a mistake.  He wanted this to mean something.

But then you whined his name, the same way you did last night, with that needy, pleading tone that made his heart drop in his chest and his cock throb against his jeans.

“Dabi...”

Fuck it.

Dabi’s resolve shattered into a million pieces, and he kissed you.

Pleasure erupted like wildfire and you gasped against his lips.  Your hands behind his neck instantly tightened around him as you slotted against his body like a magnet. His arms tightened around you, his hands following up and down the curve of your back before returning to cup your ass and push you tight against his groin where his need was heaviest.  Your need was heavy too, pulsing in your veins and throbbing between your legs until you were sure you’d drown.

Your mouth opened hungrily, and Dabi was done for, his tongue meeting yours as he kissed you fiercely. His hand came up to cradle the back of your neck, keeping you close, preventing you from pulling away as he drank you in.

You were lightheaded, on the brink of fainting, when your lips finally parted.  Dabi stared at you, his pupils dilated, his lips wet.

“Wanna get outta here?” he finally asked.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

Dabi grabbed your hand and dragged you out of the club into the night air.  The cold chilled the sweat on your skin, your hearing muffled from the aftereffects of the club music.  Everything held a strange lucidity now, despite the alcohol still rampant in your veins.  It was as if a heavy veil had finally been lifted and you could see the beauty of the world around you, all of its edges in crystal clear clarity, and at the center of it was him.

You practically had to jog to keep up, your head still swimming.  You turned the corner and managed to find yourself on a quieter street, with less people. He led you down it, making another turn into another nondistinct alleyway, much quieter than the last without any back entrances to clubs or bars.

You needed to kiss him again.  You needed it like you needed air.

You tugged on his arm, yanking him back toward you.  You met the incoming momentum of his body with your hand on his cheek and your lips on his, hot and eager.

He kissed you back instantly, his tongue opening your mouth again and he backed you up against the wet brick wall, his palms exploring your body.  Your hips, your thighs... he pressed himself against you, and you moaned at the feeling of his thigh pressing between your legs, your hips rolling.

Dabi’s mouth broke from yours to trail wet kisses to your jawline and down your neck.  Your fingers gripped his hair, your body moving of its own accord, finally cut loose of its strings.

But suddenly, a wave of unpleasant heat began to wash over you, and the lightheadedness from before evolved into full-on spinning.

“Dabi...” you warned.

“Hm?” he hummed, too engrossed in the feel of you to hear the shift in your tone.

You could feel it, the way your stomach rolled.  All that drinking, and dancing, and running...

You were going to be sick.

“Dabi stop –”

You shoved him away just in time to bend over to the side and vomit your alcohol all over the ground.

“Oh shit.” Dabi’s arm was around you in an instant, holding you up as you emptied your stomach, his other hand brushing your hair back and out of your face.  “It’s okay, doll. I gotcha.”

The lust in Dabi’s veins evaporated immediately, his mental fog receding as he held you while your body convulsed.

Realization crashed over him on all that had just happened.

He shouldn’t have done any of this.

He shouldn’t have taken you that club, he shouldn’t have danced with you, he shouldn’t have touched you like that...

And he definitely shouldn’t have kissed you.  Not while you were both drunk off your asses, where you couldn’t tell where the alcohol ended and your feelings began.

Fuck, you were too important to him to fuck this up.

It was too late now. He could still taste you on his tongue, could recall in stunning clarity the feel of your body beneath his palms, the way it had bent to his will.  He’d finally had a taste of you and he craved more. He’d unlocked something within himself that couldn’t be put back, had given away something that couldn’t be returned.

You moaned miserably once you were done and wiped your mouth.  You propped yourself against the wall with your body bent and your hands on your legs.

“Ughh...” you groaned.

Dabi crouched in front of you so he could look up into your face.  “You okay?”

You looked at him with tired eyes and shook your head.  “Nnnnope. Everything’s...” – you whirled your finger in a circular motion – “ssspinning.”  You lowered your head again.  “Oh, God. That last drink hit hard.”

Dabi took your hand in his.  “Let’s get you home.”

“Yyyup,” you replied. You made to stand up, but the nausea came back.  “Woah, woah... hang on... I’mmm gonna... need another m-minute.”  Your words were slurred and your movements slow.  You bent back over, your head low again as you breathed deep breaths in and out.

Dabi crouched in front of you again.  He placed his hands on your calves and rubbed his thumbs in small circles into the denim.

You glanced up at him and a drunk giggle escaped your lips.  “Totally sexy right now, aren’t I?”

Dabi smirked.  “You’re always sexy.”

You straightened up slightly and breathed in through your nose and out your mouth as the nausea began to subside and the spinning slowed.  You leaned your head back against the wall, your eyes closed.

“I thought I wasn’t your type,” you joked.

Dabi stood up and brushed your hair away from your face. “Obviously that was a fuckin’ lie.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire.”

You were spiraling now, all the alcohol you didn’t throw up running amok in your system, and it was late. Dabi put his arm around your shoulder to keep you steady.

“C’mon, doll... I think we’ve had enough fun for tonight.”

“Mmm... I like when you call me doll,” you hummed.

“I know you do.”

“And sweetheart.”

“Yep.”

Dabi started to help you out of the alley, but you stumbled, your steps wobbly.  You broke out into a fit of giggles but had to pause again as another wave of nausea washed over you.

“You gonna throw up again?” he asked.

“I dunno.  I mean... I’m pretty sure there’s nothing left to throw up.”  You looked around you, the surroundings unfamiliar.  “How far away is home?”

“We gotta get to the train.”

“Ugghhh... too far,” you whined. Exhaustion was coming on fast and hard.  You wanted to lay down on the ground and sleep.

A raindrop struck the top of your head, then another.  More and more began to fall.

Dabi cursed.  “Ah, shit...”

You held your hand out, watching as they landed on your palm, your fingers. You opened your mouth and caught a couple drops on your tongue.

Dabi stared at you, his breath stuck in his chest. 

You were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.  And, for at least a little while tonight, you were his.  He watched, memorizing the nuances of you, your laugh, your smile, the color of your eyes, your hair, every beauty and every imperfection locked away into a safe place on the possibility that tomorrow everything would be different.

Tomorrow you may not want him at all.

So, for now, he’d enjoy however much was left of the night, even if all that was left was laughing, stumbling, and dancing in the rain.

The drops began to fall faster, heavier.  It began to flatten his hair and soak into his clothes.  You were oblivious, your face tilted up towards the falling rain, as you held your arms out.  You did a small spin but stumbled, and Dabi caught you in his arms before you could hit the pavement.

“Whoops!” You giggled.

“Shitfaced,” he teased.

“Happy,” you replied. You put your arms around his torso, your head resting against his chest. “Happy.” You repeated again, your voice softer.

Dabi allowed his arms to wrap around you, allowed his quirk to warm his body slightly to stave off the cold for the both of you.

He had to get you back, before the trains shut down.

“Come on doll, we gotta hurry.” Dabi grabbed your hand and began dragging you down the street.  You followed him, your feet barely able to keep up.

As the rain soaked through your clothes, you began to shiver.  Puddles formed in the street, small streams trickling down the gutters.  By the time you’d managed to reach the train station, you were both soaked.  Dabi managed to get you onto the last train for the night.  You sat down together and you began rubbing your arms, your teeth chattering slightly.

Dabi took off his stitched coat and draped it over your shoulders. “Here.”

You wrapped it around you gratefully and snuggled against him, your arms wrapped around his.

As the train began to move, it rocked ever so slightly, back and forth.  Dabi allowed his cheek to rest against your wet head as he watched the city pass outside.  He felt an unusual sense of quiet in this moment, a peace that he’d never felt before. The usual darkness in him was always there, lurking, but for once, he didn’t care about it, didn’t look at it. He knew this night was wrought with impermanence, and he told himself that he would pretend.

After a silence that lasted for eternity, Dabi allowed himself to speak from a place that he usually kept quiet, a place he’d never before given credence to.

“I hope you remember this...” he whispered against your hair.

You didn’t answer. The mixture of alcohol, exhaustion, warmth, and the movement of the train had lulled you to sleep.  It forced a small loneliness to settle on Dabi’s shoulders.

It had been fun while it lasted.

 He had to shake you awake once the train reached your stop.  You were half asleep as you followed him off and leaned against him the entire walk home.  Dabi had half a mind to give you a piggyback ride to save time, but the healing wound on his back itched as a reminder.  His scars didn’t hurt terribly yet, but he remained cautious, aware that your quirk had burned off long ago. Now it was only your pills that were keeping the excruciating pain at bay.  He could feel them lurking beneath the surface, waiting to wreak havoc on his body again.

It was an ordeal getting you in and up the stairs.  You’d gravitated towards the couch in the common room as soon as you saw it, and whined at him when he redirected you to the stairs.

“Elevator,” you whined.

The old machinery squeaked and rattled, and Dabi didn’t want to wake the others just to deal with curious looks and even more curious questions.

“Too noisy.” Dabi replied.

So, he helped you up the steps of the stairwell, catching you when you faltered.

By the third stumble, your giggles returned.

“Shh, shut up,” he whispered.

Your giggle turned into a cackle, unable to control yourself, and Dabi put his hand over your mouth to try to quiet you.  Your tongue stuck out and licked his palm, running across his staples.

He yanked his hand away, repulsed.  “Ugh! You’re disgusting.”

You cackled some more, and your voice echoed off the stairwell. You clamped your own hand over your mouth to stifle your laughter as your eyes squeezed shut, tears stinging the corners.

Dabi couldn’t help but chuckle at you.

“You’re ridiculous,” he muttered.  “Come on, you idiot.”

He finally had to put your arm around his shoulder and his arm around your waist, and your giggles finally subsided, the occasional chuckle escaping your lips.

Dabi managed to get you through your bedroom door and plopped you down on top of your bed, where you lay sprawled out, your eyelids heavy.

“Dabi...” you slurred.

Dabi began helping you out of your shoes.  “Yeah?”

“Did we kiss?”

Dabi froze, his hands in the middle of peeling off your wet socks.  It was as if like you’d shot a bullet through his chest, and now his heart was bleeding out, leaving nothing but emptiness inside.

You didn’t remember.

You already forgot.

Dabi stared at you for a moment as you laid back with your arm over your eyes to block the light. His jaw clenched.

“No, doll.”

“Aww...” you pouted. “I thought we did...”

“You must’ve been dreaming on the train.”

“Mmm, it was a really good dream...”

You rolled to your side and curled in on yourself, tears in your eyes as you stared at your bedside lamp. You were still wrapped up in his coat, with your own soaked jacket underneath.

“C’mon, doll.”

Dabi made you sit up and began taking his coat off you.  You rubbed at your eyes sleepily.  As soon as he got your own jacket off, you fell back sideways into the bed.  Dabi grabbed your blanket and laid it over you.

“I wish I were your type...” you whispered.

Dabi froze for a moment, his eyes on you.  But you didn’t look at him; it was almost as if you were talking to yourself.

It stung him how little you remembered from your night together.  But Dabi accepted it bitterly, playing along.  Maybe it was for the best.  Maybe tomorrow you wouldn’t hate him.

“No you don’t,” he replied quietly.

“Yes I do....”

Your eyes closed, and Dabi watched and waited.  But they didn’t open again, and your breaths fell soft and even. You’d fallen asleep.

A heavy sigh escaped out of his nose, and he crouched at the edge of your bed, his arms on your mattress with his chin in his fist as he watched you sleep.

His type.  It was the second time you’d brought it up that night, even though you didn’t remember.  He remembered the jab he’d thrown at you ages ago; he remembered how you reacted. It was his first real hint that showed him you were interested in him.

But then everything fell apart and you put him back together piece by piece. And it was all different after that.  Dabi had assumed that his little comment no longer mattered; that it had become a thing of the past, once you’d gotten to know him and all of his problems.  After all, why the hell would you even want to be his type anyway?

But you did, and now his careless words from before were back to bite him in the ass.  Because now he had only one type, and it was you.

And you weren’t going to remember a thing.

-----------------------------------

Chapter 17

-----------------------------------

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST FOR THIS FIC OR ANY OTHER WRITINGS, PLEASE GO HERE TO FILL OUT THE GOOGLE FORM. 18+ ONLY ALLOWED.

TAGLIST: @babayaga67 @ladroone @samemec @georgettesand @horsetechie  @ajaviary @thegratefulbread25 @lovingandenjoying @jammakesjam @christalcake @moth-baybee @kdadss @stealingyourturts @purplesweethart @reapersbarge @ren-z @dabi-lover @ohh-takuuu @darkovergrownforestnymph @silverrings-n-prettythings @kirisbeltbuckle @wynnsmelody @sleepyfairyxo  @noonasaryn @alittlemoth @prettylambs @n0san1tyl3ft @afuturefailure @sleepycrybby @piratequeen-impact @n3cr0p0l1s @ladyinfini @forrest-of-the-fae @here2vibe @dabislittleprincess​ @dabislittlemouse​ @zephoncocaine​ @kowalsqq​ @lovingandenjoying​ @ravenskit @stealingyourturts​​ @crunchtits​​  @byebyeeye​ @wanhedavaliquette​ @toastycp​​ @diplotzakkaistriftatsigara​​ @redmilligan​​ @endlessfreaky​​ @noonasaryn​

[dira333]

Passing Peonies - Post War Touya Todoroki - Part IV

When the war ended, Midoriya Izuku had proven one thing: That Villains did not need to be killed to be defeated. That you could make friends from enemies.

Touya Todoroki, formerly known as Dabi, had been one of those taken into the rehabilitation program. After one year of intense physical and psychological therapy, he's got the chance to prove himself. To prove that he can be a part of this world.

Complete fic length: 30.600 words - Masterlist

Warnings: poor mental health and resentment against past actions is mentioned, burn scars etc. as well. There is angst but this is mostly soft Touya coming back to his family...

Part 4: (2,1k words)

You’re a good teacher.

He’d known before but it becomes clearer now. 

He’s still got problems with fine motor skills, his fingers often too stiff to tie ribbons or cut the smallest branches without damaging the rest of a Bonsai but he’s learning so much, not just about taking care of plants but other things as well.

The old ladies that used to coo at your friendly gifts now flock around him, tell him about their grandkids and ask for his opinion on what to buy them.

He figures out quickly which students like his snarky comments and who’s appreciative of being guided toward a cheaper alternative.

The week after he gets his ZZ plant, he can choose between a bouquet or an indoor plant.

“You don’t even know if I’ve taken good care of him.”

“Well, have you?” You ask, pushing the sleeves of your cardigan up your arms as you prepare to dig into the roots of fiddle-leaf fig, the sight of your bare underarms distracting him for a second.

“Of course. But that’s not the point.”

“Bring him in tomorrow then if you want me to review your work.” You cheekily smile up at him. “Even if you’re just fishing for compliments.”

He picks a golden pothos for his therapist, knowing that he desperately needs a plant to light up that office while also knowing he can’t take that free bouquet and gift it to you, even if he’s starting to want to.

🌺.

Three months later you’ve fallen into a rhythm. 

Every second Friday after closing you let him into your apartment where, after a grilled cheese sandwich and a shared bowl of soup, he waters your plants and renames them.

Bob’s doing so well, he’s already a parent, one of his kids now sitting on Fuyumi’s shelf. 

Hawks has put in a request for more Bouquets for his agency, as well as his father and Shouto, who in turn has seemingly told all his classmates about this great flower shop downtown.

Touya would love how much more money you’re making now if all those customers wouldn’t cut into the time he gets to spend with you.

At least the purple-haired gremlin Shouto calls a classmate hasn’t shown up since he scared him off. He doesn’t like guys buying flowers as an excuse to check you out, especially when they’re too cheap to buy a proper bouquet.

🌺.

“No grilled cheese today.” You tell him one Friday evening as you close the door and turn the key. “I’m buying you dinner.”

His heart skips traitourously.

“You sure your plants can survive without my care?” He jokes and you grin.

“Positive. Now grab your jacket and let's head out.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“Oh, multiple things. We’ve got so much business now we’ll have to start dividing our orders into two different pick-up dates. What do you think of Tuesday and Thursday? We could use Monday and Wednesday to make the bouquets.”

“And the other reasons?”

You laugh, clearly figuring out that there’s no use in redirecting his thoughts. 

“I don’t believe in anniversaries but I’ve heard people say that it’s always hardest after the third month, so I thought you could use a little celebration.”

He looks at you, calculates the slope of your nose against the curve of your lips, and cocks his head to the side.

“And the last thing?”

You sober up quickly, looking down the street into the dark night, the sign of a gas station glowing in the distance.

“Today’s the anniversary of my father’s death.” You look up at him, your eyes open and vulnerable. “I like to do something nice for someone else on that day. As a gift to the world, you know?”

He doesn’t know. But it fits you. Like green aprons and cardigans, white shirts, and grilled cheese.

-

“Do you want to talk about him?”  

You walk in silence for a while, the same comfortable silence he’s shared with you since he’s met you, until eventually you open your mouth.

“We have the same quirk. It has been in our family for generations. My great-great-grandmother was a hero, actually. She made sure to marry someone who complimented her quirk and so on and so forth, until my father decided to marry someone quirkless, to not be a hero, or even a fancy landscaper. He just wanted a normal, comfortable life.”

You point at the door or the restaurant and he follows you, feeling like your story isn’t over yet, but not ready to push you to talk when you never do that with him.

The restaurant isn’t fancy, but it’s not fast food either, telling him that you’re spending quite some money when he’s seen how you live and knows how much the shop used to bring in.

When the waiter leaves your table and he opens his menu, you lean across the table to whisper, bringing along a scent he’s grown so familiar too. The scent of earth and greenery, of flowers and foliage, of you and your shop and your home.

“Sorry, what?” He shakes his head to clear his mind, realizing he missed every word you’ve just said.

“I said if you’re not against sharing they have this amazing combination of gyoza dumpling and melted cheese. They line the Gyoza up and when the cheese is melted you can dip the gyoza in. You can choose what the fillings are and if you want other dips for it but it’s usually a serving for two.”

He blinks at the giddiness lighting up your face. He’d never been especially inclined towards cheese until his mind started linking it to you and now, linking it to you being happy.

“Of course.” He hears himself say and sees you lighting up even more. “But if we order it, we have to go full in. Filled with cheese to dip in cheese. We’re not cowards after all.”

You giggle and he looks back down at the menu to keep himself from staring, glad that his skin grafts cannot blush.

When the waiter returns, however, he’s pulling a face that spells uncomfortableness.

“I’m sorry.” He says, clutching his notepad with both hands. “But I’m… well, I was made aware that we cannot serve you.”

“What do you mean?” Your face is full of confusion while Touya catches on faster. 

“He means he can’t serve me.” He explains and the way the man cringes tells him everything he needs to know.

“It’s alright.” He says when he feels that it’s not, in fact, alright. “I’ll just see you tomorrow then.”

“No.” Your hand’s flat on the table and your voice serious. “Matsumoto-kun, you’ll be serving us.”

“I’m sorry, please, I-”

“Leave it.” Touya tells you, the hard line of your mouth something he hasn’t seen before.

“Is there a problem?” Behind Matsumoto, a new face appears.

“Yes.” You’re standing now, smaller than the two men, but standing your ground. “You’re taking part in the rehabilitation agreement, yet you’re not willing to serve a member of the same agreement. I don’t want to do this but I will have to make a formal complaint if you continue to refuse us service.”

“Madam.” The man behind Matsumoto, obviously the manager, is wringing his hands now. “This isn’t about the agreement. You have to understand what your companion did-”

“It doesn’t matter who he is or what he has done.” You tell them sharply. “He could be Tomura Shigaraki and it would still be your duty to serve him as a customer if he came in here as part of the Rehabiliation agreement.”

“This isn’t our decision,” Matsumoto whispers, eyes looking everywhere but at Touya himself who’s now standing himself, hand on your arm as if that would do something but ground himself.

“Come on.” He tells you. “Not today.”

And somehow he’s said the right thing because you nod and grab your purse and your jacket, following him out of the restaurant.

Five steps from the door he can hear you curse under your breath.

Ten steps from the door he can hear you sniffle and when he turns, you’re full on crying, fat tears dripping down your face.

“Hey. Hey, don’t cry about that. It’s not worth it.”

“It is!” You disagree wetly. “They shouldn’t treat you this way and now I’m mad and I’m hungry and I’m upset that I always cry when I’m mad, and-”

“If it would make you feel better you could let weeds grow in front of their door.”

“They would just pull it out, that’s just hurting the plants.” You complain but you’re almost smiling now.

He’s grinning back at you. “We could spray paint their windows. Egg the front. Put toilet paper over the door.”

“What are you? Five?” 

He laughs and you laugh with him, frozen on the sidewalk in your shared little bubble.

“There’s a Kentucky Fried Chicken down the street, isn’t it?” He asks. “They have cheese fries. It’s not as good as dipping cheesy Gyoza into melted cheese but would it satisfy your cheesy needs?”

“You make me sound like an addict.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Maybe a little bit.”

-

He watches you pop another cheese-covered fry into your mouth and feels only a little weird about it.

“Feeling better?” He asks, chewing on his straw.

“A bit. But I’m still going to put in a formal complaint. It’s not okay.”

“It’s been a year. It’s going to take some time.”

“Still. God, now I can never go back there again and I don’t know anyone else who offers that dish.” You complain.

“I could learn how to make it.” The words are out of his mouth before he can stop them and he bites his tongue, regretting them immediately when you pinch your brows.

“I didn’t know you can cook.” You offer him an easy way out and he shrugs.

“I don’t. But it doesn’t sound that hard.”

You laugh. “Oh, it is. Why do you think I only offer you Miso soup and grilled cheese sandwiches?”

“Because that’s your favorite food?”

“True. But it’s also the only thing I can make. Well, when the sun’s in the right position and the moon’s not looking, I can also make a fried egg.”

He laughs at that. 

“You seem so talented, I thought you’d be good at everything.”

Your smile wavers and you wipe your fingers, signaling you’re done with your food.

“Want to take a walk?” You ask and he nods, throwing away the trash and meeting you at the door.

Something in him wants to take your hand, make sure your pulse is still the same as always, that you’re fine and well and there with him, but he knows that’s not the whole reason.

He wants to take your hand because he wants to hold it and feels like a ZZ plant that’s been put in a dark spot, longing for more light and scared it might burn him at the same time.

He doesn’t put his hands in his pockets, lets them hang by his side loosely, hoping against hope that your hand will knock into his as if a ray of sunlight might accidentally come his way.

-

“My father died five years ago.” You tell the night sky above you. “He had a heart attack and died in his sleep. I miss him every day. And I know he’d be proud of me. Of what I’m doing and how I’m doing it. He’d love my apartment and my shop and even if he’d call every bouquet I make perfection, he’d still pluck around in it, because he couldn’t let anything go untouched. Isn’t that love, that you love something not only despite its imperfections but simply because of them?”

Heaviness settles in his gut yet again as your words sink in. 

You look at him and he wonders if you’re talking about him too. 

He thinks about his parents, his siblings, his friends - if he can call them that. 

He wonders if they love him despite his imperfections and he wonders if he loves them.

“My mother remarried three years ago. And I’m happy for her, because her new husband is really nice, and she’s happy. But they moved, about two years ago, to America of all places. Plane tickets are expensive.”

“It gets lonely sometimes.” He says, not really knowing why until you nod.

“Yeah.” You breathe out. “Yeah.”

He wants to say that he’s here now. That you can lean on him. That he’ll be there for you.

But he doesn’t. Because he can’t. He shouldn’t. He won’t.

So he doesn’t say anything and it seems to be the right thing, allowing the two of you to walk in silence through the dark.

taglist: @misfit-megumi @shoulmate @pixiesavvy @the2ndl @neko-my-cat @chelseaquake

taglist is open, if you want to join, just mention it in a comment or send me a message.

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[mamayan]

Mhmm but since I’m on the road for a minute just gonna throw a bone for thoughts of…

cw: amab!/afab! reader • NSFW • dom/top! F/O! • sex toy usage • fluff—

TOYS—

You who is acting incredibly nervous as you ask them if it’s okay to use your little vibrator or cock ring while pleasuring them with your mouth.

You who is prepared for backlash because past relationships/the internet/society has taught you that something is wrong with you if you can’t cum from penetrative sex alone.

You who is shocked by their warm or even eager positive response of: “Oh of course you can play with yourself baby, get yourself nice and wet/hard for me.”

You who comes to regret showing your favorite toy/s because now it becomes their favorite/s too.

You who ends up tied on your back, cute gag in your mouth while you writhe in overstimulated pleasure and agony as they use that exact toy to torture you all while cooing sweetly. “You’re doing so good baby, looking so pretty for me. Does it feel good? It looks like it does.”

You who is screaming their name on repeat, like a broken record, while they slam their cock/strap into you while using that exact toy to play with you. Chuckling while you try to plead for mercy or get away from it all but being unable to. “Poor thing, I thought you wanted to play with your toy? S’too much? No baby, I think it’s not enough yet—,”

You who ends up with more toys for them to torture and play with you than you bargained for. They’re pulling new gadgets out all the time, shocking you silly and all too happy to test each one individually and in combination on you.

You who finds comfort in expressing yourself more freely and communicating your needs and wants just as they planned because they know rejection or aversion to you expressing these things to them will only cause you to further deny the most basic necessities for a healthy relationship ★彡

Cute dividers drawn by @benkeibear

[bea-does-stuff]

𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐦𝐡𝐚 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 243

𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙨: 𝘿𝙖𝙗𝙞, 𝙝𝙖𝙬𝙠𝙨

𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙖 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙧𝙩 𝙤𝙣𝙚, 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙨𝙤 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙠 𝙞 𝙙𝙞𝙚𝙙 𝙡𝙤𝙡, 𝙞’𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙡 𝙗𝙞𝙩 𝙗𝙪𝙧𝙣𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙘𝙤𝙡𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙨𝙤 𝙞 𝙙𝙤𝙣’𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙜𝙮 𝙩𝙤 𝙬𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙚, 𝙗𝙪𝙩 𝙞𝙢𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙮 !

𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈

I really hope you're not present when he describes you, because the words this man will use cut like knives.

 Not even petty insults like “annoying” or “stupid”, just cold and heartbreaking insults, insults that would make the strongest people cry.

The thing is he doesn’t mean a single word he’s saying, he only says so people think he hates you, that way, people won’t try to use you against him

If he were to tell the truth, tell everyone how much he loves, god knows what people would do to you. He’s not willing to take that risk, not even for one second.

However, his façade breaks the moment someone insults you. If someone does so much as call you dumb, that person is a goner, after all—if someone insults you, then they insult his love, and he won’t stand for that

𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐒

He’s really childish when describing you, almost like a 5 year old describing their idol.

He can and will talk about you for hours, never once losing that loving and admiring glow from his eyes.

He will go from describing your beautiful personality, a personality just as beautiful as your appearance.

Hawks also gets real offended if people say something like “their not that great”, he will go from acting childish and lovey dovey to an intimidating hawk ready to attack their prey. 

Of course, he won’t hurt them, but he won’t talk to them after that either.

[stardust-sprinkler]

“Bad Boy Who’s Always Good to His Girl~” Part 2

Dating College!Touya

Here’s some tooth-rottingly sweet Touya x reader. Enjoy!

• When he tells you he’s gonna start going by Dabi—says he’s cutting his family off—he doesn’t expect you to say more than the “Okay, babe” that you offer up. You knew enough to get why he was severing ties. He actually loves that you’ve never pried or pressed him for any information about his family that he didn’t disclose of his own volition.

• But the fact that you’re typically more vocal in your support inexplicably makes his chest hurt a little this time. A tiny voice inside him seems to be seeking some validation in his decision, some confirmation that it’s gonna be okay—because the only person that matters is going to be staying. He silences it, shoves it deep down further until he can’t hear it anymore.

• But when you meet up after his last class the very next day, you show him something that makes him stand there in shock. You pull up your sleeve to show off a new tattoo; you’ve already got his new name on your inner wrist, central to a faux bracelet. “Skipped some classes today, it couldn’t wait, I was too excited.” He quickly pulls you into a hug that presses your head against his chest, but not before you catch a split-second glimpse of wetness in his eyes. It’s the most emotional you’ve ever seen him, but you’ll never comment on it.

• With the amount that you two fuck (which is constantly), it’s not like you’ve never had slow sex… But when you’re in bed together that night, he seems to take his time on every part of you, unhurried in his worship. And his lips are feather soft when he kisses the wrap covering the inside of your wrist. This time, it’s you blinking away tears. He doesn’t comment on it either. Not beyond quiet whispers of your name.

• He’s sure that you make up for all the bad luck in his life.

Bonus: The first time you help him dye his hair, you’re sorely tempted to secretly swap the black box color to like a vibrant purple or green—it would just show up so easily on his naturally white hair.

He catches you eyeing the other colors, then sighs and grabs a few. The surprised, delighted sound that comes from you makes it impossible for him to stamp down an exasperated smile.

Idiot.

Follow for more College!Dabi hcs, asks are open 📖

[shadowspromise]

Touya walks into the room. 

“Grilled cheese.” 

You look at him. “Grilled cheese?” you ask.

“I want… grilled cheese,” he stands there, arms to his side, still as a statue.

“Okay. I will make you grilled cheese,” you answer. 

“Grillmd… chees…” he mumbles as he walks away. 

[lxvebun]

request: As I asked earlier, and I hope I'm not bothering you, <3, is it okay if you can have Aizawa, Shigaraki, and Dabi react to their S/O picking their skin, and that they have scars and scabs from picking so much?

buns notes Hi angel! Thank you for requesting!! And for your patience. I did hawks instead of Aizawa, I hope you don't mind! And I hope you like this. It's written in my older headcanon format but honestly I had the best time writing when I wrote like this so in the future more fics may pop up in this format.

content: Dabi/Hawks/Shiggy x gender neutral reader. Fluff. Comfort. Not catched up on current events just pretend we're in a bnha reality where all is well *sobs* hawks has his wings! My old Headcanon format. Blood. Skin picking. Scratching. Scars. Kissing said scars. Staples. If I missed anything let me know! Very lazily proofread.

Dc creators and consumers dni. My blog aint for you

Dabi

♡- Oh he's such a good boyfriend, you will never convince me otherwise. He's protective, he's sweet, he's your human heating pad, what could you possibly want more?

♡- and being such a good boyfriend, and his already perceptive eye. It makes that he usually knows what's going on before you tell him. From insecurities to other problems, if it's something he can fix, he'll do it without you having to tell him about it.

♡-so if you were planning on hiding it from him. You failed. he has already noticed the violent scratching, the picking at your skin and the frequent trips to the bathroom to rub the blood from under your nails almost immediately.

♡-He doesn't bring it up, he'll wait for you to be comfortable enough to do that. In the meantime he just helps you as subtle as he can with the knowledge he has.

♡-which is mostly holding your hands whenever he can, a win win for him really. You're unable to scratch at your skin, and he gets to hold you<3

♡-I believe he'd tell you stories of his own scars and habits as well to hopefully make you more comfortable around the topic. The staples stuck to his face are hard to miss, and as a nervous tic he does have a habit of fucking around with the ones on his wrists or jaw. Plucking them out and pressing them back in to the point blood starts to seep out. Not the most fun story to hear, but if it helps making you more comfortable, It's a small sacrifice really.

♡- it's hard to feel insecure about any scars you have being with Dabi. The most obvious reason being, he has them too, even more noticable than yours may be. And he's still the prettiest guy you have layed your eyes on.

♡-overall he tries his best to help as much as he can and as much as you allow him to<3

Hawks

♡-also a very good boyfriend, but in order to be your very good boyfriend, you need to tell him about the things that are troubling you, things you're insecure about, which you don't always do.

♡- luckily for you, it's hawks, walking heartthrob and probably the most charming person you've met. He can coax it out of you with lots of cuddles, sweet nicknames and ever sweeter kisses<3

♡-A lot of him helping you exists out of buying expensive cooling creams and ice patches for damage control after a bad day of scratching. And of course, his feathers help out too

♡- if the urge is there, or he notices you doing it subconsciously, one of his feathers will swat your hand away and replace it for you. That way you can't do too much damage to your skin.

♡-you rarely feel insecure about it with hawks, because he just wont let you<3 any bad talk or somber faces directed towards your scars gets wiped away when he presses a plethora of kisses to them. Try to hold him back, you cant!

♡- what kind of boyfriend would he be if he just let his pretty dove feel anything less than perfect?

Shigaraki

♡-he's been there and while his habit of scrating at his neck and wrists is more of an control coping mechanism there have been times where he scratched himself open and since he always picks at the same place, it has left some deep scars.

♡-scars that you've continously showed love towards, pressing gentle kisses when passing by or tracing over it. So please, do not be insecure about yours!

♡-in general any love and affection you show towards shigaraki, he tries his best to return tenfold. He's new to relationships, to love. And god is he in love with you. And he just wants to make sure you know that.

♡-that means repeating himself over and over again about how your scars do not make you any less beautiful, pressing kisses to your face to distract you, or challenging you to a mario kart game >:)

♡- he's very giddy about letting you borrow his his gloves! Although the gloves only covers half of your hands and you're still able to pick if you put some force in it but you dont have the heart to tell him that. It's the thought that counts<3

♡-he's not afraid of a little blood, and as hard as it may be for you, please do come to him when it gets bad. He's seen and been through a lot worse and promises you there nothing you can show him that will make him look at you in a bad light. Although he's not the best example, he rarely treats his skin after he picks, he would very much like to take care of yours. Even something as small as cutting your nails for damage control, or as big as helping you clean up the blood. he's always there and happy to to help<3

Thank you for reading angels!<3